Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Specks of heat gleamed across the vast night sky, all beaming in different intensities and hues of colors. Amongst all the scattered dots, the brightest light came from the Moon, attracting the most attention from anyone who glanced up. Even so, Craig Tucker thought that the view of Mars was a bit more interesting than that of the Moon, for it was a planet that uniquely shone a red tint, unlike the rest. Yet, as fascinating as the Red Planet was, it paled compared to the view of his boyfriend, Tweek Tweak— the brightest star of them all.

In the darkness of the night, the moonlight reflected against Tweek’s alabaster skin with a kiss, complimenting his breathtaking beauty. He was celestial, captivating like the cosmos. His eyes were a shade of green, unlike anything Craig had seen in his time on Earth. Not to mention the way his wavy hair stood unruly, somehow, still always perfect. Even as Craig ran his fingers through the golden strands, the curls routinely found their way back like magic. It never failed to amuse him.

A gentle breeze enveloped their bodies in a warm hug; it made Craig shiver despite wearing his signature blue hoodie. The last time he was in South Park, the air was dry, and the heat was insufferable. A month later, the weather had already reached a point where it was tolerable. That was the good thing about traveling to Peru every summer— he got to avoid the hottest month of the year and return when it started to cool down again. Unfortunately, Tweek was left to suffer through it alone. Although what he heard through the grapevine, the heat was the least of his concerns that month.

According to his friends– Clyde, Jimmy, and Tolkien– Tweek was hardly seen outside his parents‘ coffee shop. As it turned out, Richard and Helen Tweak decided to stop selling coffee for the rest of the summer due to the decline in customers. Instead, they switched over to smoothies, iced teas, and refreshers. Their marketing strategy proved a great success; ‘The Tweak Bros Coffee Shop’ was back to making sales. Though that hadn‘t been much of a surprise since South Park was a small town; they had the advantage of no competition. With the sudden customer influx, Tweek was stuck working more than usual.

Tweek had most likely hidden his stress to avoid worrying Craig while on vacation. He constantly brushed it aside and reassured him that he was coping fine. Upon their reunion, Craig could almost instantly tell it was a lie by the way he was shaking. When they hugged, he felt him just a bit skinnier, and when he reached out to grasp his hands, he saw an assortment of band-aids placed clumsily all over fingers and arms. It had been a while since Tweek had anxiety so severe that he scratched his skin until he bled. It had also been a while since Tweek looked so tired. It wasn’t to say he had been free of his harmful habits. However, they had implemented a whole system that helped him cope with stressors healthily, which he had adapted to quite well, even when Craig wasn’t around. That’s why he couldn’t help wondering what pushed Tweek so far to disregard everything he did to recover.

They hadn’t talked about their time apart. They had set up for a nice picnic under the stars, but Tweek fell asleep as soon as his head touched Craig’s lap, leaving him to eat peanut butter sandwiches and red velvet cupcakes alone. Of course, he didn’t mind, it was flattering how fast his presence could cure his insomnia. He chose not to complain, he opted to observe his lover and his soft facial features. From his position, he could appreciate Tweek’s profile. After many years, Craig hadn’t noticed just how long and thick his eyelashes were. It seemed that one could be in a relationship for years, and still have new things to learn.

After a while, Tweek flinched awake. His body tensed up, and his eyes opened wide. He sat up in a frenzy and looked around as if lost. “Oh man, I have to get to work!”

The silence was disturbed by Tweek’s frantic voice. It pulled Craig out of the trance he had been in since they arrived at their little secret corner in the woods of Stark’s Pond. The spot they were in was hidden by the tall pine trees, making it isolated enough for them to spend time alone without any worries. The remarkable aspect was the clear view of the skies that could be observed exclusively from that specific point due to the trees blocking the view in other areas. That’s why Craig deemed it the perfect place in South Park for stargazing. Luckily, no one else had ventured far enough into the woods to find it.

“Tweek, you already completed your shift today,” Craig said, his voice as monotone as always except delivered softly, almost a whisper.

Tweek turned towards him, seemingly more awake than just seconds ago. “Craig,” he smiled, “You’re home.”

He returned his smile, “I am.”

“How long have I been asleep? I didn’t notice I fell asleep, I’m sorry…”

Craig didn’t answer. Instead, he inched forward and pressed a small kiss on his wounded lips. It was chaste, short, and sweet, but it served its purpose of calming Tweek. He pulled back just a bit, his eyes scanned his entire face to look for signs of discomfort, and when he didn’t find any, he leaned forward to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was longer, and more meaningful than the last.

Craig chuckled, “If you keep biting your lips, there will be nothing left for me to kiss.”

“Ack! I’m sorry!” Tweek yelped. His face turned as red as Mars. He attempted to distance himself from him. Unfortunately for him, Craig had already predicted his next step and placed his hand on the back of his head, pulling him forward into a deeper kiss.

When their lips met once more, Craig intended for them to never part again. He couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped his throat– a month of no physical contact was far too long; the time spent apart never got easy, no matter how many times they had to endure it. On his plump lips, he could mildly taste the coffee Tweek was drinking earlier. Black coffee was bitter, yet in his mouth, it was sweet.

Tweek whimpered as he pulled apart from Craig, “I-I still haven’t asked about your trip,” he stuttered. He looked dazed.

“You can ask me once you’ve caught your breath.”

“Wha–”

Craig pushed him down against the blanket they had laid on the ground and settled himself between his legs. When their eyes met, he noted how Tweek’s pupils were blown, possibly from arousal. At that moment, he realized how much he had missed the light brown freckles that spread across Tweek’s nose and the flush that enveloped his body with the slightest graze of his touch. Tweek was always so sensitive, so reactive– Craig enjoyed that a lot.

The green shirt was hiked up, revealing the warm skin underneath. Craig saw it as an invitation to touch and seized the opportunity by navigating his large hands up Tweek’s thighs slowly– wishing the blue jeans he wore could dissipate as he did so– until they reached his exposed hips. With just a simple skin-to-skin contact, Tweek gasped.

Craig smirked as his thumbs snuck inside his boxers; they rested just below his hip bones and kept them there. “My trip was fine, as boring as usual. Peruvian winters are depressing; it only made me miss you even more.”

“Gah! Are we really having this conversation right now?!”

“What?” Craig feigned innocence, “You wanted to know.”

Tweek grunted as a complaint. Nonetheless, he felt too embarrassed to insist on continuing what they were doing. Thus, he relented. “How was Clara?”

“Okay, I guess, nothing new besides what I told you on our calls. On our way to the airport, she cried because she wasn’t sure whether I’d see her next year.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Since I’m a legal adult now, I’m no longer court mandated to visit her.” As he said that, he moved his thumbs a bit lower, causing Tweek’s breath to hitch in anticipation. He leered, “Maybe I’ll repeat the favor by abandoning her for ten years before randomly popping up, looking for attention.”

Tweek shook his head and frowned, “There’s no point in revenge.”

Craig couldn’t help feeling saddened by Tweek’s words. Perhaps it was because they finally reunited, or maybe the intimate setting they were in that he was more reflective than usual. Tweek was such a good person– too good of a person.

It was so simple to make him fall apart. He was fragile and vulnerable all of the time– anyone could manipulate him effortlessly. He had the traits of an easy target: compassionate and kind-hearted, unlike Craig, who behaved so poorly that he flunked the third grade. It was after he began to date Tweek that he got his anger issues under control when even teachers and therapists gave up on him. That only demonstrated the type of person Tweek was.

Regrettably, the world wasn’t ready to handle someone as good-natured as Tweek. Craig had to admit that he worried about him and his safety. He often pondered how easy it would be for Tweek to fall into dangerous situations with dangerous people. He had already gotten himself into multiple risky situations thanks to idiots at their school, and even after, he handled the punishments all by himself because he refused to snitch.

‘Maybe if he stood up for himself, his parents wouldn’t overwork him to exhaustion…’ Craig thought.

Whenever Craig worried too much, he’d quickly remind himself that Tweek was everything except weak; he was resilient and brave, even if Tweek himself didn’t know it. It was easy for him to fall apart, yet he’d put himself back together every time– that type of courage wasn’t ordinary. That’s why Tweek remained the only person to beat him in a fight.

Finally, Craig smiled softly. “I want you to come to Peru with me next year.”

Tweek beamed brightly, “I’d love to.”

Much to their dismay, they were unable to continue their picnic date. The night had ended sooner than expected, and all conversations Craig had planned to have were placed on hold when Craig’s phone began to blow up with calls from his parents. He didn’t bother to pick up his phone, deeming it unnecessary; whether he was in trouble or not was all the same to him. In his stead, Tweek stressed and worried about any repercussions they would face despite his parents not being overly concerned about his whereabouts. As long as it didn’t interfere with Tweek’s performance at work, they were lenient about him being out and about.

As they made their way out of the woods, he sensed that he had left many words unsaid; he worried whether he’d have the chance to express them later. Communication wasn’t a skill he possessed, so he’d rather have his actions do all the talking. That time, a simple kiss or hug wouldn’t stop Tweek from relapsing on his bad habits, nor would it help him understand that Craig was trustworthy and reliable. He wanted to apologize before it was too late if he had ever given him a reason to doubt how much he cared for him.

All Craig had to do was open his mouth and tell Tweek he’d navigate through the entire universe if it meant seeing him smile just as he had planned on his way home. In fact, he had written and practiced a whole speech for him. But between small chatter and kisses, he failed to execute his mission.

On their way home, he felt guilt override his body. His hands began to sweat as he hypothesized ways to express his concerns. Every so often, he’d glance at Tweek with clammy hands on his steering wheel, pondering if it would be too awkward to bring up such a serious topic at a time when he couldn’t even look at him. He didn’t even know what he was so scared of– after all those years, why was communication still so hard?

When Craig finally figured out how to concisely articulate his feelings, Tweek had already bid his goodbyes and entered his house.

Chapter Text

Craig watched the second hand intently as it moved around the blue, moon-shaped wall clock.

Tick, tick, tick

The minute hand moved and pointed at the small, golden star to the left of the 12– there were five minutes left before the hour hand would strike seven, and his phone’s alarm would promptly sing the familiar tune of his favorite show’s theme song, ‘Red Racer.’

He’d been staring at the clock for at least ten minutes, perhaps attempting to make time stop or, at the very least, slow down. Of course, he hadn’t succeeded. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Seemingly, the Sun rose into the sky faster, illuminating his bedroom through the curtains on his window. As a result, the navy LED lights on the ceiling were sharply diminished in brightness, unable to compete with the warm glimmer in the room.

The alarm went off right on cue, but Craig was already one step ahead; it rang for a second before being promptly turned off. He groaned, dragging himself out of bed to begin preparing for school. It would be his final year of high school; it felt like it took forever to get there. Just like his peers, he had been wanting to break free from all the relentless high school torture, but he had to admit he was adamant about letting it all go. The routine he had brought him comfort; it was nice, boring, and predictable– just how he liked it. He wanted to keep that aspect of his life the same; thus, he meticulously planned his life after high school.

For example, Craig had already submitted his application to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to study astrophysics. Although he wasn’t worried about the possibility of rejection, he had a few other applications as reinforcements in case it happened. At first, he hadn’t planned on applying to such a prestigious school, but his mother only agreed to pay for his living arrangements if he did. One of those backups was Harvard University, another obligation Craig had to follow; on the occasion, Craig got an acceptance letter, she could flaunt it to her friends on Facebook.

‘So long as I study astrophysics, I don’t care,’ Craig thought while brushing his teeth. He spat out the toothpaste and looked at himself in the mirror.

Craig never thought he was someone particularly handsome; he was average at best. However, the majority seemed to disagree. His straight dark black hair, tanned skin, and tall height earned him plentiful attention and praise, even in elementary school. His eyes were probably his best feature; they were dark blue with limbal rings contrasting the darkness of his eyes by being shades lighter. Most people compared them to the likeness of the deep blue sea– he supposed that was a fair comparison. On the other hand, he thought of Neptune whenever he caught a glimpse of his eyes, and just like Neptune, he had an icy gaze, the complete opposite of Tweek’s vivid green eyes.

Tweek and Craig differed in every shape and form like the Sun and Moon, an unlikely pair meant to be at odds– enemies born to crash. Yet, the Sun and Moon were essential for Earth, equally providing what the other could not, like a partnership that appeared almost eternal– that’s what Tweek and Craig were, at least in Craig’s opinion. He felt lucky to have met his soulmate, to have met so soon, to have met at all.

That’s why the day before Craig left for Peru, he had asked Tweek to move to Massachusetts with him. He was aware that Tweek’s parents— Richard and Helen— had planned for Tweek to stay and take over the shop eventually, but Craig knew that deep inside, Tweek didn’t want that. He’d only do it out of obligation, not out of desire. Being too good of a son to admit it— too scared to disappoint his parents; Tweek would rather live in misery. Craig couldn’t allow that to happen when he knew Tweek was destined for more. Thus, after much research, he found potential colleges fo Tweek to further his education if he wished to do so. Then, he left pamphlets of said colleges with Tweek and told him to respond once he returned to Colorado.

In reality, Tweek’s true passion lay in the arts. It could be that Tweek thought Craig had forgotten the time he had confessed he wanted to pursue music theory despite the limited monetary opportunities he’d potentially have with that degree. When Craig had asked why not follow through with his aspirations, Tweek divulged his fear of upsetting Richard and Helen to the point they’d disown him; he’d much prefer to remain complacent than hurt them.

Craig remembered the exact words Tweek used the night he told him of his true aspirations. When Saturn was directly opposite to the Sun— in opposition— and shone at its brightest in the sky, 13-year-old Tweek’s eyes twinkled while he stared up at the sky. His legs were pushed up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around them as he quivered slightly from the autumn chill. They had already referred to each other as boyfriends. At that age, what did they know about love? That night, though, Craig felt it— he felt love that expanded beyond platonic.

“I wish I was Saturn,” Tweek whispered softly. “But I’m just like a stupid little asteroid. All I do is crash into things and ruin everything. No one cares or looks at me how we’re looking at Saturn right now.”

It was the first time Craig felt like he was really seeing Tweek beyond his exterior.

Back then, Craig had clusters of zits across his forehead, just like their peers, and he had stubble growing unevenly on his face. He was more conscious of his existence and body— which was growing at an unusual speed, resulting in burdensome joint pains. Moreover, Craig was painfully hyper-aware of Tweek and his presence in his life; there were urges never tackled before but were too shameful to ask anyone about. His only comfort through those days was the realization that he wasn’t alone; everyone in his grade was struggling through it— everyone except Tweek, whose most drastic change was rapid weight loss. He used to be on the chubbier end as a child, then, he suddenly turned into the thinnest and shortest kid in class with skin that remained hairless, blemished by only the nails on his hands.

After Tweek said that, Craig wanted to tell him that asteroids were one of the most crucial objects in space for scientists; they were full of rare and valuable minerals key to space exploration. Contrary to common belief, asteroids weren’t just random rocks floating through space; they were bits and pieces that helped humans understand the formation of the very planet they lived on. There were grandiose assemblages of them, with names and fans. They might not be beloved by everyone, but they’re still important and loved by those who matter.

Craig had pondered over what his response should be for a short while. He didn’t want to upset Tweek by saying the wrong thing. Craig wanted to let Tweek know he was there for him and would continue to be for as long as their existence allowed.

“Not many people understand the importance and worth of an asteroid… But I do.”

In retrospect, it was a foolish and dumb reply that made sense to no one but himself. Fortunately, Tweek reacted positively to his silly attempt at confession. Shortly after he had spoken, Tweek decided to surprise him with their very first kiss. Their lips had only touched for a spare second— it was hardly even a kiss. To Craig, though, it was perfect.

Craig was entirely spaced out throughout the recollection of their shared conversation. He felt butterflies fill his stomach while lost in the idea of living with Tweek. Too distracted with daydreaming, Craig forgot his current location and actions until a loud knock on the bathroom door startled and yanked him back to Earth. He flinched and dropped his toothbrush in the sink. From the other side of the door, he heard the loud, annoying voice of his sister, Tricia Ruby Tucker.

“Hurry up, doofus! Mom wants us to eat breakfast together,” she scowled. Craig rolled his eyes while he reached over to dry his face with a towel. “Oh, and Tweek’s here.”

Only when he heard Tweek’s name did he feel the need to quicken his pace. He tossed the towel into the hamper and opened the door at once. “Move over, loser,” he growled.

Although Tricia was quite tall for a 14-year-old girl, she was still inches shorter than Craig, who stood at an impressive 6’2. It was, without a doubt, his advantage when they bickered. Hence, he grabbed her by the top of her head and yanked her to the side, resulting in a yelp out of Tricia.

Tricia’s neatly combed strawberry blonde hair was left disheveled from the attack; the red headband slid to the floor as collateral damage. “You asshole! I just finished doing my hair!”

Craig chuckled as he trotted his way downstairs. He walked past the living room and over to the kitchen, where he saw his dad reading the newspaper while sipping on coffee while his mom packed her lunch for work. Most importantly, he saw Tweek munching on avocado toast and sunny-side-up eggs. He smiled, “Good morning, honey.”

Tweek looked up and gleamed, “Hi, Craig.”

At once, Craig was enthralled by Tweek’s enchanting smile. How could he not? Tweek— with his retrousse nose and downturned eyes— radiated any room with his mere existence. Whenever Craig saw him, his world would come to life, like the Sun rising and illuminating what was once void of color.

Craig pressed a small peck on Tweek’s lips before sitting alongside him. A fixed plate was already there waiting for him– toast with butter, scrambled eggs, and sausage. He stabbed the yellow fluffy clouds, ready to ravish them at once. When he opened his mouth to bite them, he felt a nudge coming from his side. Craig confusedly looked over at Tweek, who looked back at him with an expectant look in his eyes. After staring blankly at Tweek for a while, Tweek finally sighed and signaled at his parents with his head.

Craig opened his mouth with a silent ‘ah’ when he understood what Tweek was trying to say. “Good morning, Mom and Dad,” he said. Just moments ago, Craig had greeted Tweek enthusiastically, yet he greeted his parents with a flat and somewhat awkward tone.

His dad, Thomas Tucker, lifted his cup of coffee as a greeting while his mom, Laura Tucker, turned to him and grinned. “Good morning, Craig,” his mom replied. “Did you sleep well?”

Craig's answer was curt— a simple hum while avoiding eye contact. He had zero intention to continue the conversation; he didn’t know how to either. Thinking about it was too tiresome— he preferred to leave it as it was. Tweek, on the other hand, had a different opinion on the matter. When Tweek noticed Craig’s indifference towards his parents, he nudged him again.

He sharply exhaled, his gaze set on his food. “Thanks for the food, Mom,” he mumbled.

Any expression Laura might’ve had went entirely unnoticed by Craig. All he heard from Laura was a quiet “mhm” and her lunch bag being zipped closed. Craig turned to Tweek once again. Within that quick exchange of silence, many conversations were shared. Noting that Tweek was pleased with his polite behavior, Craig finally began to eat. At that precise moment, Tricia entered the kitchen.

After being gone for a short period, Craig had forgotten how identical Tricia and Laura were. Apart from Tricia’s hair color— a beautiful mix of Laura’s blonde and Thomas’ red hair— the similarities were uncanny. They had dark brown eyes, pouty lips, and round faces– one could mistake them for sisters. Then, you had Craig, whose appearance resembled neither Laura nor Thomas. He stuck out like a sore thumb, alienated from the rest of the Tucker household. The only similarity he shared with them was his tall height, a trait that was prevalent among all of them. Despite looking like an adopted exotic child, Craig was impartial about his distinct appearance. If all celestial bodies in the sky looked the same, they wouldn’t be interesting; the same could be said for humans.

Laura crossed her arms and raised her brow. “What took you so long, little lady?”

“I had to redo my hair,” Tricia answered as she glared at Craig. She skipped towards Laura and kissed her cheek before doing the same to Thomas, bidding them good morning while she did so. Afterward, she walked over to Tweek and hugged him from where he sat.

When she walked past Craig, she slapped the back of his head. In doing so, his blue chullo hat fell forward and knocked the fork out of his hand. By the time Craig lifted his hand up to hit her, Tricia was already out of his reach, so he settled on flipping her off instead; however, the gesture went ignored by Tricia, who sat next to Thomas—across from Tweek—and began to innocently eat as if she had done nothing wrong.

“I know y’all have your little date every Monday, but since Tricia goes to your school now, you’ll need to take her home before you go to Stark’s Pond,” Laura announced shortly after she sat down at the end of the table, next to Craig and Thomas.

Craig looked over at Tricia, “You have gas money? At your age, I was already driving.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you’ll teach me.”

The sound of silverware clattering against a plate abruptly interrupted their bickering. At once, all eyes were on Tweek, who was slicing his eggs— or, more accurately, struggling to slice his eggs. When he looked up, the sudden attention he received made him jolt in surprise.

“Honey, is everything okay? You’re shaking,” Craig asked, prompting Tweek to look down at his hands. Noting that his tremors had created unpleasant clanking sounds, he placed down the cutlery.

“My parents are, nngg, making me close shop today.” Tweek had been sitting calmly the entire time, eating and smiling at Craig and Tricia’s antics, but in an instant, his moment of peace vanished, quickly replaced with unriddled anxiety and fear.

Craig detected a chilling sensation tug at his heart, eerily familiar to what he felt the week prior when he reunited with Tweek at their spot. He should’ve known Tweek would be apprehensive to return to Tweak Bros. after such a dreadful summer. He was probably hesitant to deal with a shop full of customers again, albeit that scenario was unlikely. Summer vacation passed, and so did the interest in the new beverages they sold, which meant the coffee shop would return to normalcy. The likelihood of such scenarios wasn’t relevant— Craig learned, after many mistakes, that Tweek didn’t need solutions or a voice of reasoning; he needed to be validated and heard.

Laura furrowed her brows, “But Tweek, school just started; you should be focusing on your studies.”

“That’s what I– gah!– told them!”

Thomas sucked his teeth in annoyance. “Those damn parents of y–” His sentence was cut off by a kick to his shin and a threatening glare from Laura.

“Well, alright, Tweek,” Laura nodded. “Do you want me to pack you some lunch? I bought these vegan patties for you the other day. I don’t know if they’re any good. I can make some burgers and have Craig drop it off during your lunch break.”

“I don’t have a lunch break anymore,” he said as he scratched at his forearm, leaving angry marks behind, a grounding technique he had left behind, Craig noticed had oddly begun to resurface. “I’ll be by myself, man. Ack! I can’t take it. My parents drive me crazy!”

Craig gently guided Tweek’s hand towards his own without skipping a beat. He squeezed tightly, both to comfort his anxiety and stop the harm being done to his skin.

Craig turned to Laura, “I’ll take it to him, Mom,” He answered. “I’ll make sure he finds the time to eat it.”

Tweek’s tense shoulders dropped. He looked at Craig, his eyes drowned with guilt and worry. “I’m sorry, ack! We’ll go next week, I– gah! – promise.”

Craig naturally felt disappointed that one of their most precious traditions wouldn’t be fulfilled that day, but he hid his emotions with a small smile. It wasn’t like Tweek wanted to cancel on him; thence, it was fruitless to get upset with him over situations he had no control over.

“It’s okay, babe. We’ll always have next week.”

The moment synthetic leather collided with vinyl, Earth— alongside its inhabitants— dissipated at once. Perspiration ran through rough skin, leaving behind a thin trail of shine that stretched across his body without any apparent destination. His moves were precise— after every punch, a grunt shortly followed. A song played through his headphones, but not a tune was heard, given that he was too honed in to focus on anything that wasn’t his target.

Boxing to Craig was more than a sport; it was an essential activity in his life, akin to a ritual to cleanse his mind and soul from any frustration and stress pulsing through his heart. It was a coping skill he was introduced to at 14 as the healthier alternative to fighting when it became evident that his behavior required remedial therapy lest it spiral out of control. Unless he wanted to lose his loved ones, he needed to cooperate and try all suggestions at least once. Out of all the things he tried, boxing— a suggestion given by no other than Tweek— was the one he felt helped most.

He visited the local gym at least twice weekly to keep his mind steady. The frequency of his visits usually depended on school events or his parents, as he was more likely to react poorly to the pressures forced onto him from those sources. That’s why he was laser-focused on the sport for over 20 minutes shortly after school. Senior year had only just begun, but the stress was palpable. There was no doubt about the change of times; even the most immature of all had to admit the end of childhood was approaching— not even a wormhole could send them back in time to start anew.

As adulthood lingered above Craig’s head, the pressure seeped in like poison, which, in turn, pushed him onto the next chapter in his life, ultimately forcing him to move on from the monotony he had established— the one he wasn’t sure he was ready to let go. The future was too unstable and uncertain to predict; endless possibilities made it impossible to properly prepare, especially when he didn’t know whether he’d be traveling the distance alone or if a certain anxious blonde boy would accompany him.

What would he do if Tweek rejected his college proposal? Would he quietly accept defeat, or would he cry and beg until Tweek gave in? Come to think of it, Craig had never cried or begged for anything before.

As Craig made his way out of the gym, he pulled his phone out to text Tweek he’d be on his way in about 45 minutes. Unexpectedly, as he typed, somebody clutched his shoulder and shouted. Craig’s body had not yet recovered from the adrenaline that came from exercise, hence why he reacted carelessly by punching the intruder right in the gut, resulting in them groaning and falling over in pain. It took Craig a couple of seconds to register what had happened.

“Craig, what the fuck?” The person wheezed out between sharp breaths. Craig slid the headphones off his head and took in his surroundings. Accompanying his now-victim were two young boys; one was a slightly shorter man than Craig, with rich dark skin and black hair in tight curls; the other was much shorter, in crutches, with fair skin and brown hair.

Then, of course, there was the crouched man at his feet whose features Craig could hardly see. Even so, it was easy to identify him. “That’s what you get for touching me without warning, Clyde,” Craig scolded.

Clyde Donovan was his best friend. They’d been close since he forced himself into Craig’s life when they were little. It didn’t matter how much Craig threatened to fight him; Clyde insisted on staying by his side, crying like a baby whenever Craig was too mean. Eventually, he thought it easier to accept Clyde’s friendship than to hear his hyena-like whining. Later on, they met Tolkien Black; they were assigned together for a science project. Since they got along pretty well, they continued to hang out together.
James “Jimmy” Valmer was the last one to join their group. Despite being a late-transferred fifth grader with ataxic cerebral palsy, Jimmy instantly became popular among students. Truth be told, Craig wasn’t sure how Jimmy made his way to their lunch table, but it didn’t bother him— he was a good person to have around, even though he was surprisingly foul-mouthed.

“I-I told him n-not to do it,” Jimmy stuttered with a chuckle.

“You ruptured my spleen,” Clyde bemoaned as he stood. “I’m going to die!” His wails went ignored by Craig, who opened the back door of his car and tossed his gym duffel back.

“What are you guys doing here?” Craig questioned as he closed the door.

“We were at 7/11 getting snacks before football practice. I was gonna drop Jimmy off at his house but stopped here since we were already close,” Tolkien answered.

Whenever his friends did something remotely thoughtful— such as diverting their route to visit him at the gym— Craig felt discomfited. He liked his friends enough to have them around; otherwise, he wouldn’t spend nearly as much time with them as he did. He had to admit, however, that he wasn’t the ideal friend to have. Ever since he was born, he was taught the only way to succeed in life was to rely on no one except himself; independence and emotional reservation made a man. Subsequently, he grew up distant and apathetic— qualities nobody asked for in a friend, let alone a partner.

After some time, Craig realized he was wrong; even so, rewiring his brain to assimilate into friendships was hard. He had yet to ask anyone for help in anything because he continued to feel like doing so meant he was incapable. No matter what, displaying affection was difficult— communicating was worse; Craig also felt uncomfortable when others demonstrated such behaviors. Fighting the instinct to avoid discomfort had made Craig a better friend, although he still had to improve other issues.

“That’s kind of gay,” Craig teased.

”You’re right, I came to see your glorious pecks.” Clyde reached out to squeeze Craig’s breast. When Craig caught sight of his action, he slapped his hand and pushed him away.

“Fuck off, dude,” Craig scowled as he put his middle finger out and aimed it at Clyde.

As if on cue, Tolkien’s phone began to ring. “Fuck, it’s Coach. We gotta go,” he said. “Yo, you down for some COD later?”

Craig shrugged. “I guess.”

“A’ight, bet. Hit me up when you get home.”

Within a few seconds, the four friends split away from each other and left the gym’s vicinity. On the way to his house, he felt giddy at the thought of meeting up with Tweek, a person he had seen hours ago at school. The most mundane tasks in his life were exciting because he knew they got him one step closer to Tweek. Fortunately for Craig, nobody was at home to witness the creepy smile on his face and the fall he almost suffered from tripping over his feet after walking too fast. In record time, he got inside his car and onto the streets.

The roads were all too familiar, having driven on them way too many times. South Park was a stagnant town; every park, store, and house were in the same place they had been built decades ago. The latest development came in the form of a Whole Foods supermarket over ten years ago— which novelty came before was unknown to Craig. Therefore, all there was to do had been done, and all there was to see had been seen. If anyone wanted new opportunities for fun, they’d have to go to Denver— a city that was an hour away from South Park.

Some buildings were an eyesore in desperate need of renovations they’d likely never get. However, no other building inspired disgust in Craig like the town’s only coffee shop did. Aesthetically speaking, it looked okay; the paint, windows, and lawn were decently managed regularly. Regardless of the quality of care, the sight irritated Craig enough to make him want to commit arson— all because Tweek was unhappy working there. Alas, Tweek would never forgive Craig for committing such a crime.

The Tweak Bros. Coffee Shop was empty; Craig wasn’t surprised. Not many people drank coffee during the evening; it hopefully meant Tweek had been resting for a short while. After Craig walked through the front door, the familiar chime of bells echoed through the hollow room. From the back of the building, he heard a yelp shortly following hurried footsteps. Not too long after, Tweek popped his head out from behind a wall— his face was drained of life, and his hair disheveled.

As their eyes met, Tweek managed a small smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide the exhaustion written all over his body. His attempts at masking his disquiet were fruitless; Craig could see right through his calm facade. It didn’t matter how much Tweek wanted to stifle his feelings— his body had long recognized he was safe in Craig’s presence and revealed all he needed to know about his well-being.

“Craig, it’s you,” Tweek sighed in relief. He approached Craig from behind the counter, his steps dragged out and heavy as if he weighed a million pounds. His apron was stained in arrays of browns, similar to the stretched-out white button-up he wore.

“Hi, honey,” Craig greeted reluctantly. He leaned over the counter and pressed a short kiss upon Tweek’s trembling lips. “Is everything okay?” It was redundant to ask, but he did anyway.
Once he did, Tweek’s effort to maintain his illusion of relaxation fell apart.

“Ack! No!” Tweek shouted. His neck snapped harshly, a tic that occurred every time he neared his limit. “My dad got new stupid machines, nngg, I don’t understand them! What does ‘calc’ even mean?!”

Craig remained calm and kept his voice steady while still displaying some concern. He felt discomforted by the distress the workload pushed onto Tweek. Frankly speaking, there was always a level of disturbance present in Tweek from his job, but the exaggerated degree he found him in was unlike anything he had seen before — Craig pondered how complex the appliances must be to warrant such a response from Tweek.

“Maybe calculations within the machine are off and need to be calibrated or some shit like that; if you still have the instruction manual around, I can probably figure it out.”

“Aghhh, okay!” Tweek lifted his hand to tug on his apron. Upon doing so, Craig spotted a medium-sized patch of red skin. In a few spots, minute droplets of blood threatened to leak out. He threw caution to the wind, not being able to remain calm after seeing his lover terribly hurt.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Tweek! What the fuck happened?” He asked, his voice slightly raised. He rushed over to Tweek, jumping over the counter and grasping his hand gently. Even though he was delicate with his movements, Tweek winced.

“Ack! We used to make espresso using pods, but Dad wants me to make it properly now! I keep burning myself with the steam wand!” His voice was thin, and his eyes began to tear up. “I had a lot of customers just an hour ago. It was too much pressure!”

Craig felt anger rising up from his gut up to his chest. “We have to take care of this,” he said firmly.

“I can’t! I have so much to do!”

It didn’t matter how much Tweek protested; Craig had already begun to march towards the same entrance he had walked through a few minutes ago. He flipped the sign on the clear door from open to close and locked it. Tweek’s eyes opened wide at the action; his feet sprung into action once again, rushing over to stop Craig. He reached out to open the door, but Craig’s body blocked him.

“Ack! What are you doing?!”

“Tweek, you had eight hours of school and came straight to work— you need a break. I bet you’re hungry, and your feet hurt. Let me take care of you.”

“No! No, I can’t! Dad would be angry if he knew!”

Craig loved Tweek, which meant he indirectly had to respect his parents. It’s not that he hated Richard or Helen; they were decent people— Craig grew up around them; not once was either of them rude to him. He had to admit, though, that he had a bit of resentment towards them. Were they really unaware of the harm they were doing to their child?

Craig shook his head, “Come, let's eat together.” He grabbed the lunchbox he had set down on the nearest table to him.

At that point, Tweek knew that arguing against Craig was futile. There was no way he’d be able to convince him to allow him to continue working. Hence, he followed Craig to the back, where he had retrieved a small first-aid kit.

To Tweek’s surprise, Craig didn’t stop at the back room. He walked out the back entrance towards his car. He sat atop the hood of his cosmic blue Honda Civic and gestured for Tweek to accompany him. With hesitation, Tweek obeyed and sat beside him.

“Craig…”

He received no response. Instead, Tweek felt the calloused palm of Craig’s hand against his shortly before the stinging pain of an alcohol pad. The tender treatment of the injury juxtaposed the roughness of his skin; a long history of punching was written over his knuckles, and the very fingertips soothing the ache of his injury with ointment reminded him of Craig’s ability to fix anything broken, including himself. Most people could only see the coldest part of Craig and wrongly judged him for it; if they only saw the warmth Tweek knew lay within, they’d think of him differently.

“There,” he uttered under his breath. Craig looked at Tweek through his lashes as he bestowed a placid kiss upon the bandaged wound. “All better.”

“Thank you, Craig.” Tweek bashedly looked away, his face tinted with a prominent blush.

Craig began to pull out the contents from the lunchbox Laura had prepared for Tweek. The meal was pre-heated by Craig before he left to ensure Tweek would eat it at the perfect temperature; at the feel of the warm aluminum foil, he knew he had accomplished his mission. He passed one burger to Tweek and grasped the other for himself.

Craig looked up at the sky at the same time he took a bite from the burger. The stars weren’t shining as brightly as they would from their hidden spot, but the view wasn’t bad either. He briefly wondered if Jupiter shone just as bright in Massachusetts as it did from their special place on Stark’s Pond. All the city lights would probably silence many of the celestial bodies he was precisely observing at that moment, a small price he was willing to pay, for one day he’d see Jupiter from an observatory through a telescope. Hopefully, Tweek would also have the chance to see the planet, perhaps even a moon or two.

After a few seconds of eating and stargazing, Tweek’s voice broke the silence. “Craig,” his soft voice called out, prompting Craig to redirect his gaze towards him. Tweek hadn’t yet unwrapped his burger; he only stared at it, contemplating. “I’m scared.”

He sounded so fragile like he was about to fall apart into a million particles at any second. A few silent tears had slid down his rosy cheeks, staining his white shirt as they landed. The moonlight illuminated the trail the tears had left behind, giving Tweek a sorrowful appearance that softened Craig’s heart while simultaneously breaking it.

“Of what?” He quietly asked.

“I don’t know… something feels wrong.”

Craig offered a sympathetic smile. He wanted to make Tweek smile, make his troubles go away, even if only for a moment. “If you and I are here together, how could anything be wrong?”
Tweek nodded softly after thinking for a while. “You’re right,” he simpered.

At that moment, Craig remembered a yellow sticky note he saw in the lunchbox and passed it over to Tweek. He hadn’t read it, but whatever was written on it aided in easing Tweek’s nerves. His body had relaxed, and his twitches diminished with every passing minute.

Craig observed as Tweek folded the note before he stored it inside his phone’s case cover. Then, he finally began to unwrap the burger. Only after he took a bite could Craig continue eating his.

“This is one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.” Tweek chirped as he took another bite. Tweek appeared to have been ravenous; he ate quicker than before— with, unusually, big bites and no second to breathe. Between the two, it was common for Craig to finish his meal first. However, there could be a change of pace that night.

Craig laughed, swiping his thumb over Tweek’s cheek to wipe mustard off, which he proceeded to lick off his finger afterward. “That’s because you haven’t eaten a steak burger.”

He huffed, “Meat is overrated.”

“I think Buddha would change his mind about animals if he had a steak burger,” he cackled. “I’m sorry; that was probably insensitive.”

“I’m sure Buddha wouldn’t have minded a joke or two. It’s not like he thought he was superior to us,” Tweek sighed as he finished his burger. Craig handed over a CapriSun pouch for him to drink, which Tweek gulped down within a few seconds. He sighed in glee as he leaned back against the car’s glass. “If I wanted to be a monk, would you follow me?”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he confirmed as he shoved the rest of his burger in his mouth. With his mouth full, he spoke, “But aren’t monks free of familial ties and shit?”

Tweek cringed at his action, his face twisting in disgust while he looked at Craig rolling up the aluminum foil and tossing it in the box. “Yes, and they’re also virgins and single.”

“Well, at least we’re half of that.” Craig shrugged before he lay back as well. There was a pregnant pause as they observed the stars in silence.

“Maybe we won’t be soon,” Tweek said.

Craig’s head snapped to look at Tweek with his eyes opened wide. His hands began to sweat a little, and his heart’s pace quickened. His mind raced as it tried to find meaning to what Tweek had implied. Did it mean they were going to move in together after high school? Or was it his way of saying goodbye to the many years spent together? He didn’t want to assume since Tweek hadn’t exclusively brought up the topic himself— Craig didn’t want to pressure him by bringing it up. Tweek was already on edge, and discussing a serious topic could push him down another rabbit hole.

Therefore, he decided to keep the conversation lighthearted.

Craig gulped thickly. “You can’t tell me you're giving up celibacy like this. I’ll kidnap you and take you to my house. You’ll never see daylight again.”

Tweek chortled at his response. “Alright, settle down, I think I can see your boner.”

“Don’t talk about boners, please,” he whined, provoking Tweek to laugh harder. He slapped Craig’s chest lightly with his non-wounded hand.

“I was never practicing celibacy, by the way,” he blurted. He paused, hesitating whether he should continue. “Nng, I was scared you’d change in high school and… stop loving me. But we’re seniors now, and you’re still here. Indulging in sexual relations while in a stable relationship is so Buddhist of me.”

It was Craig’s turn to laugh, “You’ve already had 'sexual relations'; you just haven’t been thoroughly explored, but I can fix that,” he smirked. He sat up slightly and placed all his weight on the forearm that rested against the cold glass. He winced but pretended to be unphased.

Craig leaned down and closed the gap between them. The slight burn of the glass disappeared from his mind as his body focused on the other senses that set his body ablaze. The sensation of Tweek’s warm lips against his own sent signals to the parts of him he hid in his pants. He felt that overwhelming desire to have Tweek closer, hold him tighter, inhale him deeper. It was a feeling so powerful he could explode like a supernova.

As the kiss deepened, Craig felt like they were two objects with an invisible gravitational pull toward one another until they perfectly collided. That was probably why uniting under the stars— cuddling, caressing, kissing— felt natural, and doing anything opposite to that was akin to breaking a physics law. The feel of Tweek’s smooth skin under Craig’s palm was like tracing the constellations of the sky he was already so familiar with, yet it filled him with excitement like nothing else could. And like the constellations, the sounds that Tweek elicited by Craig’s touch were a wonder that never failed to electrify him from the inside out.

Pulling away from the kiss was similar to the struggle of separating two magnets from one another; Craig wished he’d never have to part ways with them. The only motivation for his departure was the notion of seeing Tweek’s dilated glistening eyes eclipsed by his own shadow. What would they look like if Craig were to bury himself deep inside him? How many tears would brim the corner of his eyes before they overflowed?

“Don’t think I’ll stop loving you again. As long as stars twinkle in the sky, I will love you.”

“You’d never leave me, then?”

Craig’s eyes gleamed with fondness as he kissed Tweek’s forehead.

“Never.”

Chapter Text

The sound of rain harmoniously blended with Craig’s stable writing and Tweek’s rapid sketching. The mixture of grey skies and gentle rainfall always evoked tranquility in Craig; particularly in the mornings, the rainfall’s soothing abilities were the most effective, like a tranquilizer, his anger calmed before it ever dawned upon him.

Perhaps that was why Craig found himself eerily calm despite the circumstances.

It was Sunday morning, yet he sat in Tweak Bros. Coffee Shop instead of his bed like an ordinary teenager. Beside him sat Tweek, who was twitching nervously while pretending he wasn’t watching Richard and Helen’s every move. He wasn’t doing a good job of dissimulating his real intentions for sitting at the furthest corner of the coffee shop, which was to observe their movements without probing. Tweek’s homework lay ahead of him, and the pencil moved in circles atop the paper because the one holding it wasn’t paying attention.

Craig closed his Economics notebook after finishing his worksheet and swiftly replaced Tweek’s U.S History homework with a blank sheet of paper to stop further damage. “Honey, staring at them won’t make them dismiss us any faster.”

“Ack! I wasn’t staring!” Tweek exclaimed. He turned to Craig, who wasn’t convinced, prompting Tweek to drop his facade. He groaned and shoved his head in his hands; he gripped his hair tightly in frustration. “I know, it’s just– gah! We’ve been here for hours! We’re gonna miss our movie!”

“Then, we’ll catch the next one.”

Craig rubbed Tweek’s back soothingly and watched as tensed muscles weakened under his touch. He had the urge to sneak his hand under his shirt and feel the feverish skin under his fingertips. Desire began to rise in him; he wanted to see Tweek shiver beneath him and see those gorgeous eyes sparkle with pleasure.

Craig’s imagination was nearly enough to calm him until he remembered precisely why he couldn’t kiss Tweek breathlessly. Richard and Helen— why was it always Richard and Helen? Craig was growing frustrated and annoyed about their date being delayed because they had favors to ask– favors Tweek had finished hours ago. It was a common hindrance lately.

There was always a task Richard and Helen needed Tweek for– late-night inventory, preparing ingredients in the morning, or attending customers in the afternoon. They always claimed the coffee shop was constantly busy. Yet whenever Craig happened to stop by, it was moderately so. At the very least, it wasn’t something Richard and Helen couldn’t do alone.

Nonetheless, Craig attempted to be patient. He believed Tweek when he said it was a temporary change; they were overwhelmed due to the influx of customers and the procedures adapted to make the new recipes. It was reasonable for Richard and Helen to depend on Tweek until they could find footing. Then, two weeks passed, and somehow, they still hadn’t adjusted. At that point, Craig had begun desperately missing his intimate moments with Tweek. By week four, Craig couldn’t trust himself to not demand Richard grant Tweek a break. His thinning patience must have been noticeable to Tweek, who prepared a date after begging for a day off.

Whatever excitement they felt about the said date was squashed instantly when Helen called Tweek to meet up at the coffee shop for a small favor, which shortly turned into an excess of chores. Tweek must have expected things to turn out that way because he worked diligently to finish as quickly as possible. Even so, they were held up in case they needed Tweek again; they hadn’t needed him since two hours ago.

Craig’s leg bounced in frustration, the hand not rubbing Tweek’s back closed itself into a fist, clenching and unclenching beneath the table as he feigned nonchalance. It was nearly impossible. Thankfully, the rain helped ease him, and Tweek’s bone-crushing squeezes to his thigh did the same.

“It’s not just the movie,” Tweek frowned. He turned to Craig, looking at him with gentle eyes; Craig could stare into them forever. “I have something important to tell you, so I planned the perfect day for us…Agh! I feel like it’s all ruined now.”

Craig felt shockwaves pulse through his heart. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he had a feeling of what it was. A surge of energy coursed through his veins as he sat up in newfound anticipation for the day ahead. Hope began rising up his chest. Did Tweek have an answer to his proposal?

Suddenly, waiting at the coffee shop for hours wasn’t horrible, not if it meant he’d have an answer to his future. “It’s not so bad.” Craig leaned over and pressed a light kiss on his cheek. “Anything is fun when I’m with you.”

Tweek bit his bottom lip and looked away to hide the blush evidently on his face, while Craig smirked proudly at himself for making him smile. Precisely then, Richard approached them and declared Tweek free to go. Neither hesitated; they scrambled to their feet, yet they didn’t get far; Helen snuck up on them with four coffee mugs and blueberry muffins. By their bland color, Craig knew they weren’t prepared by Tweek.

“Why don’t we all have a nice midday snack before you leave, hm?” Helen questioned. “It’s been a while since we all sat down to chat.”

With solemn looks, Tweek and Craig flopped back onto their seats.

What followed was a conversation as bleak as the muffins on their plates; it resembled a business meeting more than a family brunch. They threw subtle jabs at Tweek, identical to bosses pressuring their employees to improve their lackluster performance despite Tweek putting in more effort running the shop than Richard and Helen combined; their comments were insignificant and undeserved. It only took a few insufferable minutes for Tweek to make his bottom lip bleed from stress. Had Craig not held onto his left hand, he would likely be tugging and pulling at his hair.

Their interactions weren’t what Craig was used to, given that he remembered them accurately. He doubted they were as hostile as they were now–strained, tense, and uncomfortable. There was no doubt Richard had been strict since Craig met him, and Helen was hypercritical of Tweek. However, Craig didn’t remember them being so outspoken about it, shamelessly calling Tweek subpar and trivializing Tweek’s hobbies whenever given a chance.

For Tweek’s sake, Craig kept snarky replies to a minimum, a task increasing in difficulty with the passage of time. Undisputedly, Richard and Helen worried about Tweek’s future– they probably thought the only way to guarantee a successful future was via Tweak Bros. They cared for Tweek and his financial stability, but what about his happiness?

What importance did the legacy of the coffee shop have when Tweek’s smile held more value?

“Craig, Tweek told us you’ve decided to go to MIT; that’s quite far from here— about six hours on a plane, I believe?”

Craig turned his bored gaze onto them without dismissing the indistinct way Tweek tensed up. Tweek reached out for his mug of coffee and chugged it down. Without skipping a beat, Richard hurried to refill it; he reached for the thermos and poured it to the brim.

“Five hours,” Craig replied curtly.

“Oh, your poor parents, I’m sure they’re devastated you’re leaving them behind. I don’t know what we’d do without our Tweekers here. Our business would fail, and we’d be out in the streets before we’d know it—”

“Mom—”

“He might as well just kill us right then and there, right, Richard?”

Richard nodded. “That’s right. We’re a team– us three. Your parents have Tricia, at least, but we only have our little spaz. All of our customers adore him, don’t they? Even though he’s…”

The way Richard stared at Tweek did not appeal to Craig in the slightest bit. It was inexplicable; Richard looked at Tweek with a kind smile, just as he would if he were serving a drink to a customer. It could be that Craig was simply too upset to shield Richard and Helen from his biases affecting how he perceived them; even their voices were starting to annoy him just as much as their faces.

“Not to mention, our Tweekers can’t survive out there on his own. He has always been so reliant on us, with his ADHD and all. He won’t be able to get his special blend of coffee anywhere else! How awful, could you imagine?” Helen shivered as if disgusted by the idea. Craig eyed the coffee server from which Helen filled her mug, equally disgusted.

There was an awkward silence. When Craig turned to Tweek, he looked utterly defeated, his shoulders slumped and head dropped low. Every time his neck snapped ever so often, a groan would shortly follow, and Craig would wince at how painful it looked. Tweek’s hands were trembling to such a high degree that he began to fear picking up his mug lest he spill it everywhere.

Craig turned back to Helen and Richard, who looked unfazed by the conversation. “My first choice was Boulder.” Richard, Helen, and Tweek looked at him confusedly. “The university, Colorado Boulder,” he said. “It was my mom who convinced me to go to MIT.”

Craig felt uncomfortable leading a conversation, especially with Richard and Helen, but seeing Tweek diminish into something so small hurt more. Craig wanted to inspire him– to give Tweek hope that life beyond the coffee shop existed. If he planned to convince Tweek of the possibility, he had to convince Richard and Helen first.

If they heard about Laura’s tenacity to get Craig out of South Park, they might feel inspired and encourage Tweek to do the same. Be that as it may, Craig was unnerved by the memories of the argument with Laura when his plans after graduation were revealed. He didn’t think he’d be able to share them.

Craig felt shame for the way he behaved that day. He was 16 when he made a decision– one he had planned to keep private. Seemingly, the stars aligned at odds with his favor.

“So, Craig, the guidance counselor called me this morning,” Laura grinned. They were having dinner— lomo saltado, Craig recalled, his favorite. Laura, as usual, sat directly across from him.

He stopped chewing momentarily before pretending Laura never said anything at all. He remained silent, uncaring. It was common for the faculty to call upon his mother, whether good or bad; Craig only wished they could back off.

“What did she say?” Thomas asked.

“Craig’s PSAT score was 1420!” She shrieked excitedly.

Thomas looked at her, confused. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Craig’s a nerd,” Tricia teased. Craig glared at her before turning to Laura.

“I wasn’t even told yet,” Craig announced, his voice sharp, angry.

“Now, Craig, it don’t matter who finds out first. What matters is that you scored in the 1%, ain’t that exciting?” Laura squealed. “Victoria said you qualify for the National Merit Program.”

Craig scoffed, bothered that his mom referred to his counselor by her first name. They seemed to have gotten well-acquainted.

“What does that mean?” Thomas questioned, albeit playfully.

Craig slammed his fist on his table, making Tricia flinch in her seat. Laura paused before reassuringly rubbing Tricia’s back.

“It means that Victoria and Laura need to stop discussing me behind my back,” Craig growled. “What gives either of you the right to discuss my future without me?”

“Watch your tone,” Said Thomas in a stern and low voice.

At that moment, Craig closed his eyes and visualized Tweek, the peace he felt when under the stars with him. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down. His fists clenched and unclenched under the table. When he felt his heart rate slowing, he opened his eyes again.

“You’re right, Craig, I’m sorry, we were just so excited.”

Craig leaned back in his chair. He clenched his jaw as he observed his mom, who had a small smile. Her eyes were crescent, clearly proud and pleased with her son. Back then, it was hard to recognize that she was a caring mother. Instead, he saw it as being stripped from his control. As if they didn’t trust him enough to be in charge of himself, of his future like he was incapable of handling the adversities of adulthood.

Craig hated that feeling more than anything in the world.

“Look, I got these for you.” Laura reached for her purse and began to search. “Now, I know you’re only a sophomore, but it’s never too early to start planning for your future.”

She pulled out multitudes of college and university pamphlets, an assortment of options to choose from, albeit the majority were prestigious schools out of state. Craig’s body temperature began to rise as he looked at all of them. Did she think he wasn’t responsible enough to look at options for himself?

He felt his brain shutting down, feeling overwhelmed by his many thoughts. The prospect of his life changing– his future, the expectations– felt like they had a giant mass crushing down his chest. “I’m going to Boulder.”

Laura looked at him in disbelief. “Nonsense, Craig, you can’t go there. Your brain belongs somewhere greater, a place that can really challenge and make you better.”

Craig could only glare at her. In his mind, he spoke a thousand words.

He knew what he was doing; he did his research. He had already pondered his options and decided it was best for him to stay in Colorado. He’d be close to South Park, close to home– close to Tweek. “I don’t need you to make decisions for me.”

“I’m not, Craig, I’m merely suggesting you think things through.”

“I have.”

Laura sighed, defeated. “Well, okay, then, if you say so.” There was silence again. “Can you at least consider MIT? I did some research, and I think it suits you the best. I heard their astrophysics program is incredible. I think you’ll really like it there,” she said as she placed one final pamphlet down.

Craig looked at it, secretly wanting to pick up the pamphlet out of curiosity. Too prideful to do it, he reached for his glass of water instead.

Craig decided to stop his explanation there. The rest was too private to openly explain. Besides, it wasn’t relevant to his point. His intentions were to persuade Richard and Helen to do what Laura did: to push Tweek’s boundaries. To motivate him, to believe he was capable of more than they thought possible.

It was true.

Tweek wasn’t only better— he was grander than life itself. He was intelligent, kind, hardworking, funny…everything good and kind in the world, he was. Craig couldn’t understand what they didn’t see in him. Tweek was so great; he was addictive. Like the hydrogen in Earth’s atmosphere, Craig couldn’t escape the gravity that pulled him towards Tweek.

Craig looked down at his hand and saw the scar on his palm. It was faint after a few years, turning lighter as Craig grew older. It was a souvenir of his frivolous behavior— one he wished to forget. He couldn’t, though. Every time he looked down, he’d see horror on the faces of his family. Momentarily, Craig felt scared of the person he could become if he wasn’t careful.

If anybody should be under heavy criticism, it should be Craig.

Laura continued, “I know it’s scary out there; you like your routine, you like familiarity, but…I promise you’ll be okay. We’re right here with you.”

Craig wasn’t sure what she had said that ticked him off. Was it the fact that she still doubted his decision? Or was it the fact that she was right?

As much as Craig wanted to pretend to be strong, he was a coward.

Within a second, he crushed the cup in his hand. It wasn’t a difficult feat— the cups were cheap, brittle, and easy to crack with the slightest of force. Be that as it may, it was incredible enough for Laura and Tricia to exclaim in shock. And though Craig was not emotionally all there, he could never forget the fear they both had in their faces.

Throughout the years, throughout their fights, Craig had only shut down before; maybe he raised his voice a couple of times. He never portrayed signs of violence in front of Laura, especially when Tricia, who was only 12 at the time, was present. They were unaware how much boxing had increased his strength; Craig never intended that to change.

Tricia and Laura sat bewildered; in part, so was Craig, who could hardly feel the pain from the glass stabbing him but could very clearly see all the blood. His hand was pulsing as he opened it to drop the red-stained glass. The damage was more injurious than expected; Tricia and Laura gasped in horror at the amount of blood that gushed out from his palm.

Craig was stunned, unaware of what to do. The movement of his hand brought him back to the situation; the pain came rushing in, although he wouldn’t show it.

“Craig,” Thomas called out in a quiet, strict tone. He looked calm as if he didn’t experience what everyone else did. In retrospect, he probably panicked the most. He held back to avoid scaring Tricia and Laura further. Craig was his son and the reason for their trepidations. He was conflicted. “I think it’s best if you left now.”

Craig didn’t hesitate. Perhaps Thomas implied that Craig should leave for his room; instead, he left the house.

He never apologized for his behavior; he couldn’t muster the courage. Instead, the succeeding morning, at breakfast, nobody said a word until Craig– with his hand mysteriously patched up and a different perspective– broke the silence. He had made his decision and was going to MIT. At first, it was out of guilt. Then, it was out of surrender.

Laura was right; she had always been right. With time, he grew to accept that.

“Mom wants what’s best for me,” Craig admitted. “Even if I wanted to stay, she’d never let me.”

Tweek gazed at him. Craig was unsure what Tweek was thinking when he did so. Within his eyes, Craig saw a look of empathy and love; he saw trust along with something else Tweek wasn’t telling him. Craig didn’t know why or how he could tell something was amiss.

“I’m sure I’d feel the same if you were my son,” Helen said as she took a small sip of her coffee. “I mean biologically, of course. You know we love you as if you were our own, right, Richard?”

“Yes, of course, Darling,” he agreed. Richard examined Tweek, who had discomfort spewing from his pores. Nevertheless, he seemed relatively better than he was at the beginning of the conversation. Craig wasn’t sure if he was imagining things; he swore he saw Richard scowl briefly before replacing his discern with his typical unsettling smile. “You kids go on now. I’ll see you later, Tweekers.”

”ACK! Bye!”

Worried they would change their mind, Craig and Tweek hurried to escape. They sighed in relief when they exited the coffee shop at last. The summer air had never felt better. Once in Craig’s car, he noticed Tweek was emotionally spent. Richard and Helen had sucked the energy out of him, along with his joyful mood. Even so, Tweek faked a smile.

“Ready to go bowling?” Tweek forcefully chirped.

How could Craig see the sadness in Tweek and force him to spend a day out? He didn’t want to push guilt onto Tweek, though, so he pretended he was tired.

Craig pressed a kiss at the top of Tweek’s head, “I know you were really looking forward to our date, but I think I just want to go home and watch TV. We could grab some snacks on the way. How does that sound?”

Tweek frowned, “Was it because of my parents?”

He shook his head, “I have a Calc test tomorrow, so I want to take it easy today.”

Tweek simpered. He got on his tippy toes and pecked Craig’s cheek. “Let’s pick something up for Tricia, too.”

Craig paused, a bit lost in his thoughts. He snuck a glance at his scar. “Do you think Mom would want something, too?” Craig asked, slightly embarrassed.

Tweek was briefly surprised. Then, he laughed, “I think she would kill for an Almond Joy.”

Despite Tweek’s impressive perseverance, his anxiety was palpable. His fidgeting increased exponentially; he was sweating. Whenever Craig asked if he wanted to talk, Tweek would shake his head and look at Craig as if the proposition was preposterous.

As expected, it wouldn’t take long for Tweek to show his true feelings. Craig had left for the bathroom and came back to Tweek pacing around his room, stimming by flapping his hands while on his tippy toes. Craig said nothing; he absentmindedly closed the door, blinds, and curtains as was routine whenever Tweek experienced an anxiety episode. The room was swiftly engulfed in complete darkness until Craig turned on a dim nightlight in the shape of a star atop his desk. The softness of the yellow glimmer from his night light encapsulated Tweek like a beauty in a canvas. The furrow of his eyebrows, the pout of his lips, the skin that turned into a muted pastel– an oil painting was made out of Tweek.

Craig lay on his bed, occasionally peeking at Tweek to verify he wasn’t harming himself. Craig didn’t want to pressure or disturb him. It was Tweek’s self-soothing ritual, one he did when he was overwhelmed or overstimulated. Craig was relieved to see him return to his healthier ways of grounding.

It was the two of them alone. Tweek didn’t have to resort to masking and harming to calm himself down. He didn’t have anyone scolding or shaming him for the way he expressed stress. It seemed as though he wasn’t calming down. He began to whine as he paced, his movements escalating in intensity. Tweek grew impatient, clearly frustrated that his anxiety was continuing to consume him.

“I got you,” Craig whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe.” Tweek responded with a whimper. “What’s going through your sweet little brain?”

“Little?” Tweek squeaked. Craig gulped, instantly regretting his choice of words. “I’m sorry, I know I’m…I can’t—”

Tweek began to hyperventilate. Craig gripped the blankets underneath him to stop himself from reaching out to Tweek; he knew he couldn’t until Tweek was ready. “Take deep breaths, baby, take your time.”

Tweek made pathetic attempts at breathing; Craig’s heart warmed up, knowing he genuinely was trying. He heard Tweek’s sniffles, a sign he had begun to cry. “Nnngg, I feel useless, like— gah!— I’m nothing in this world. I feel like I’ve lost control of everything like I’m just a pawn in a game,” he wept. “I feel scared all of the time…I feel alone…”

Tweek began to sob. His whimpers escalated until he was a mess. He clutched his chest as he struggled to breathe. Craig began to panic; seeing Tweek hurting never got easier.

“You’re not alone, honey, I’m here.”

Tweek shook his head in a frenzy; his body quivered as if he was dunked in ice-cold water. Even so, he was sweating. His whines became screams, like something in his chest was hurting him deeply. He couldn’t stay stationary; he continued to pace frantically as he cried, yelled, and whimpered. Craig was at a loss; he had seen Tweek experience a panic attack before— plenty of times, in fact— except that time was different. It was the worst one yet.

Tweek began to punch at his chest with one hand, the other harshly pulling at his hair. Craig wanted to aid him, yet struggled to find the right words to say. Laying idly by was uncomfortable. Notwithstanding Tweek’s preferences, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

Craig was considerably stronger than Tweek; even when he struggled and squirmed, Craig stopped all of his movements by embracing him from behind with little effort. He took hold of Tweek’s wrists and forced them to cross over against his chest before squeezing tighter. Craig’s heart was pounding so hard, he was sure Tweek could feel it on his back.

He shushed him, muttering sweet nothings while Tweek struggled. He ensured that the pressure was constant, applying just enough to pacify, not scare him. It took a few minutes before Tweek’s sobs dialed down. His body went limp; nonetheless, Craig didn’t let go.

A while later, the door to his bedroom opened softly behind them. It was Laura, holding two bottles of water and a few snacks. She offered Craig a sympathetic smile, aware of what was happening and wanting to extend her help in the only way she knew how. Tricia peeked her head from underneath Laura, her sad eyes glancing over at Tweek, wordlessly wondering about his well-being.

“Bath?” Laura asked. Craig only nodded. No other words were shared. She looked at Tricia, who left a small stuffed animal on the floor, presumably for Tweek, and ran towards the bathroom. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Before she closed the door, Tricia had already jogged her way back. “We love you, Tweekie.”

Whether Tweek was aware of what she said was unknown. At a time after a panic attack, when he was reduced to nothing but wistful cries, he was as if he was nowhere to be found on Earth— out floating in space is how Craig thought about it.

Usually, Tweek was allowed to stay the night after Laura informed Helen of the situation. She usually didn’t give much importance unless it was happening during Tweek’s shifts at the coffee shop. Afterward, it was likely that Tweek would pass out from exhaustion before waking up after a few minutes to take a bath. They would watch a Red Racer, eat, and cuddle until Tweek would succumb to sleep once more. However, strangely enough, Richard was adamant about having Tweek home that night.

Tweek’s panicked face when he heard he had to return to his house was devastating. He quickly masked it with a small smile. In his eyes, sadness burned bright. He was wrapped nicely like a burrito as Craig escorted him to Richard’s car, both clearly taking their time to get there.

When they approached the car, Thomas and Laura talked with Richard and Helen, most likely about the situation and possibly trying to convince them to allow Tweek to stay. Richard and Helen were unwilling, unfaltering; they appeared deeply upset.

Craig opened the car’s back door for Tweek before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Call me when you get home, okay?” Craig whispered. “We can still watch Red Racer together.”

Tweek weakly nodded before sadly lifting his head up, silently asking for a kiss on the lips. Of course, Craig would never deny his request. Then, he closed the door and hesitantly stepped back. Craig solemnly stared at the car driving away alongside the rest of the Tucker family, worried about how Tweek would fare the rest of the night on his own.

Craig kept his phone by his side as he emptied the bath and readied for bed. He called Tweek and frowned when the call went straight to voicemail. He assumed Tweek was conversing with Richard and Helen, so he messaged to call whenever. In the meantime, he scrolled through the NASA website and read the latest space articles. No matter how interesting the news, Tweek remained in the back of his mind.

Craig waited while marking the upcoming astronomical events on his calendar; he continued to wait while watching a video on interesting exoplanets. Eventually, his eyelids began to weigh heavily on him. He gripped his phone tightly, waiting for Tweek’s caller ID to appear.

But it never did.

Chapter Text

Craig watched as Tweek showered his hair with hairspray. The droplets were akin to liquid moon dust atop his head, white and lustrous, until they fully absorbed into the golden strands. Then, the curls bounced, shooting a few droplets into the air like comets. One stray drop landed on Tweek’s right foot, next to a dark freckle he had a little below his pinky. Tweek must’ve felt the drop land on him because he swiftly lifted his foot and rubbed it against the back of his left calf. And Craig just watched silently, enjoying how effortlessly beautiful Tweek was. How his every move was gentle despite his tics. With every breath he took and every sigh he released, Craig fell apart again and again like a fool— a smitten fool.

Tweek’s slender fingers combed through the dampened, medium-length, shaggy curls, separating any clumps as he went. He paced in his place, unable to stay still for a sliver of a second, all while he scrutinized his hair through a small mirror atop his drawer, facing away from Craig. It had only been a short while, but Craig had already missed his light, verdant eyes.

As Craig admired Tweek, he couldn’t help but question how well put together he appeared after the night he had suffered. At school, he was energetic and chirpy to the extent that he made after-school plans with their friends despite it being a Monday. Craig, on the other hand, was the opposite. The whole day, he searched for an opportunity to pull Tweek aside to ask him about his whereabouts the previous night; why hadn’t he called him back, as they had arranged before his departure? Stark’s Pond would’ve provided the perfect chance to talk. Instead, they readied themselves to go to Tolkien’s place.

“What time do we have to be there?” Asked Craig from Tweek’s bed. He sat at the side of the bed, waiting for Tweek to finish styling his hair.

“Six?”

Craig glanced at his phone. It was 5:30pm. One of the best things about living in a small town was that being late required genuine effort. Everything was nearby, so unless there was an emergency, everybody was always on time. Therefore, they had a few minutes to converse.

Admittedly, Craig was nervous about bringing up the subject. For some reason, he felt uneasy. Perhaps because it went against the routine he was used to. Everything felt unusual; it was uncomfortable. Tweek’s nonchalance about the ordeal made it worse. For a while, Craig pondered the possibility that he was overreacting— that was equally rare as it was.

“Tweek, can we talk?” Craig finally gathered the courage to ask. Tweek dropped the socks he held and spun towards him in a panic. They were the same color, yet different sizes. Craig made a mental reminder to organize his clothes again.

“Ack! Are you breaking up with me?” He exclaimed. Craig hadn’t answered, but Tweek’s face was full of resignation as if he had confirmed his fears had come true. His eyes were wavering while his hands slowly enveloped around his waist as if to hug himself.

“No! Of course not!” Craig quickly denied it. Tweek sighed in relief and bent down to pick up the unidentical white socks he dropped. “You know I would never break up with you, honey. Why would you think that?”

Tweek frantically shook his head as he dismissed the question. The desperation of his movements made Craig suspicious. He initially thought the doubts arose from Tweek’s habit of overthinking, but judging from his reaction, it appeared he was sincerely convinced Craig was leaving him. It was odd, given that Tweek had been more confident than ever that Craig was his forevermore, given their last conversation about their relationship.

“I was wondering about last night,” he said. Tweek flinched and immediately turned around. He pretended to rummage through his sock drawer as if he didn’t already hold a pair in his hands.

“Oh…why?” Tweek’s voice was soft— hesitant, almost as if he was talking to the open compartment rather than Craig.

“You disappeared on me, babe. Were you talking to your parents? It looked like they were upset.”

“Everything’s fine!” Tweek squeaked.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you so flustered?”

“Because you’re meddling with my business.” There was a pause after those words left his mouth. Tweek straightened up and harshly slammed the sliding receptacle, resulting in an echoing thud. “Gah! I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

The sound startled Craig just as much as his imprudent remark did; they were both unusually aggressive responses from Tweek. Craig struggled to formulate a sentence. His facial expression wouldn’t show it, but the words stung. Not that he could complain– he would be a hypocrite if he did. After all, he was infamous for delivering similar statements. Craig had to admit, however, that it didn’t help with the strangeness of the situation. It served as fuel to his concern. The implication of Tweek’s words meant there was a divide between them; he was establishing a boundary. He had a right to do as such– Craig had no choice but to respect his decision. Still, he worried about what it could mean for their relationship. Tweek was essentially hiding information from him because he didn’t trust him.

Craig couldn’t stop from searching for flaws within himself that would explain Tweek’s sudden mistrust. If he could find the answers, he could fix the problem before it worsened. Then, everything could go back to normal.

“We should go. I don’t want to be late…” Tweek said after a while of silence.

Craig nodded and seized his keys from the nightstand; subsequently, he followed Tweek out the door. During the drive, Craig stole glimpses at him, equally enamored as he was troubled. The conversation continued to linger within Craig’s mind, yet Tweek appeared to be unbothered. He leaned his head against the car window and stared at the white clouds, none-the-wiser of Craig’s wandering sullen eyes. Tweek hummed along to the song playing from the stereo, harmonizing with the sound of the male’s voice. His voice was as angelic as ever, even as he brewed insecurities in Craig’s bleeding heart.

Tweek and Craig were the last to arrive at Tolkien’s house. Clyde and Jimmy were already in the basement when they shuffled in while Tolkien fetched snacks from the kitchen. The white LED lights were obnoxious, though they were dimmer than usual, and the TV played the familiar tune of Mario Kart a little too loudly for Craig’s liking. It was typically Tweek who was prone to overstimulation. On that occasion, it was Craig’s turn to feel the overbearing sensations of the cold air being blown in their direction by the ceiling fan and the faint humming of the mini-fridge against the wall near the sofa. It exasperated his tense mood despite him having merely walked in seconds ago. At that moment, Craig wanted nothing more than to sit in the dark and analyze every single interaction he had with Tweek until he found the exact juncture he flubbed their dynamic.

“You guys smell that?” Jimmy asked with a stutter. “I think Tweek is gaping.”

Tweek gasped at the comment while a blush crept all the way to his ears as he rushed past Clyde to slap Jimmy in the arm. He jumped on the couch and delivered at least four smacks before he was satisfied with the attack.

“Don’t you guys go to Stark’s Pond every Monday, or am I tripping?” Clyde questioned with a raised brow. He turned towards Craig, who glared at him, quietly hoping he’d drop the subject, which he thankfully did.

“I love Mario Kart,” Tweek gleamed as he snatched a joy-con from the coffee table in the middle of the room. Craig stiffly walked towards the couch only for Tweek to grasp his wrist and yank him down, forcing him to sit at once. “Grab a controller. We’re doing the rainbow road.”

Jimmy laughed, “G-gay rights, am I right, fellas?”

Tweek elbowed him on the ribs, resulting in Jimmy wincing loudly before they roared with laughter. As they continued to tease and joke around, Craig was at a loss; everything was happening too fast, and he was overwhelmed. At one point, somebody had tossed him a black controller, which was swiftly yanked from his hands.

“The black controller is mine,” Clyde said as he placed his hands on the handles. Shortly after, his face twisted in disgust. “Ew, Craig, there’s sweat all over this.”

Precisely then, Tolkien took the controller from Clyde’s hands. “Actually, the black controller is mine. You guys play with the joy-cons.”

“Ugh, dude, weak.”

Craig didn’t realize when Tolkien had come back, but he chased Clyde off the recliner, resulting in one too many people sitting on the couch instead. Craig felt claustrophobic, with Clyde sitting up on one side and Tweek bouncing around on the other. He slouched backward until his head hit the cushions and observed the chaos. Between figuring Tweek out and handling everybody’s overzealous behavior, he felt out of place.

Craig drowned out the rest of the conversation and stared at Tweek, who laughed and giggled as he attempted to sabotage Clyde from winning. Amongst the boisterous hysteria from the others, Tweek’s unrestrained chortling stuck out in Craig’s ears. It was contagious. Even when his mind was muddled by his nonsensical thoughts, Craig subconsciously smiled. They were pressed together, forced into a couch so cramped that their thighs were practically glued together– if Craig wasn’t somewhere listlessly floating in space, he would’ve already forced Clyde onto the beanbag. Alas, he was paralyzed. Similarly to Tweek, Craig began to doubt himself. Scared he’d make another error, he preferred to maintain his posture, even though he wanted to bring Tweek closer because somehow he felt too far away.

At least Craig could watch him be happy where he was.

After an unknown amount of time, Craig forced himself to pilot his body again. They had raced a few laps, in which Craig miraculously kept himself out of last place, and the mood had shifted significantly. He examined the setting further and concluded that Tweek had been on a losing streak based on the fact that the group consistently poked fun at him. At first, Tweek was in on the jokes, throwing back playful quips at everybody succeeding every round. However, as the night progressed, Craig noted how Tweek steadily became increasingly upset. With every race, he was quieter, focusing harder and harder each time. His jokes turned bitter and pointed, earning him less laughter. Hence, Craig interrupted the game under the pretense that he was bored.

“Let’s play something else.” Craig pressed the home button, resulting in complaints all around the room. He turned to Tolkien as he fiddled with the Zelda edition joy-con. “Got anything else?”

“We could play Smash.”

There was no room for debate. Clyde and Jimmy cheered as Tolkien opened the game on the console. From the corner of Craig’s eye, he saw Tweek chewing at his nails while his sight was fixed on the screen ahead. Craig sensed he was one short step away from exploding. In his effort to ease Tweek’s frustrations, he might’ve made it worse.

The outcome of his suggestion was worse than Craig had anticipated. Unbeknownst to him, Clyde, Jimmy, and Tolkien had organized a coup against Tweek. All three of their characters gathered around his own and began to aggressively pick on Tweek until he inevitably lost. It was the type of harmless prank they habitually pulled on each other. Yet, at that moment, Tweek saw it differently.

He sat up and tossed the controller at the couch with immense force, causing it to bounce right off and onto the rug, where it luckily landed unharmed. The group of friends were still unaware of the seriousness of the situation and continued to cackle. It only infuriated Tweek more, who had begun to twitch and scratch his forearms in a way that made Craig cringe from secondhand pain. He attempted to hold him, but Tweek shoved him with a surprising amount of force, resulting in Craig losing his footing and falling down on the couch.

“I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m some freak of a jester,” he yelled, his face turning red from the ferocity of his shout. “You all hate me. I always knew it! I can’t take it anymore!”

The room remained silent, in a state of hushed unrest, with the few noises barely apprehended— similar to what Craig imagined space would be. Everyone save for Craig stared back at Tweek with their eyes widened from shock, which most likely worsened Tweek’s anxiety. On the opposite side, Craig was stationary, feeling the way his heart was racing. He knew he had to act– to dilute the explosive solution, yet he couldn’t.

“We were just playing around, Tweek. We didn’t mean any harm,” Tolkien said nervously. Jimmy and Clyde wildly nodded in agreement.

“I’m not a game! You’ve all been plotting against me! I knew it. I fucking knew it! Ack! I can’t take it anymore!”

Tweek raced out of the basement and up the stairs while the group sat gobsmacked. The abrupt switch in energy left them in a state of disbelief. It was so outrageous that they momentarily thought it was a prank. Tweek’s anxious outbursts were not a novelty; everyone had been witness to his breakdowns no less than once. Be that as it may, his cursing and anger were out of character.

Craig was the first one to break free from the shock. He cussed under his breath before he scurried behind him. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. When he walked out the front door– which Tweek had left opened– it was dark. All he could muster as he bolted out the house was ‘fuck, fuck, fuck.’ The sidewalk showed no signs of Tweek, which astounded Craig. He hadn’t expected him to disappear so quickly. He looked side to side without the slightest idea which way to go first. He called out his name a couple of times and received no answer that indicated Tweek was anywhere nearby. It was hard to think, hard to breathe, and he was frustrated at his inability to put himself together.

It was only a matter of time before footsteps approached Craig from behind. “You saw which way he went?” Clyde worriedly asked.

Craig didn’t answer, although Clyde’s voice proved to be sufficient in grounding him enough to bring some sense into him. At the speed at which Tweek moved, the chances of them finding him were slim. Therefore, they decided to split up and search for him in different locations. Tolkien— being the most emotionally intelligent— was able to efficiently divide the search: he would investigate Tweek’s house and school, while Craig would go to Stark’s Pond and the coffee shop. As for Clyde and Jimmy, one would search the surrounding areas while the other stayed in the case of Tweek’s return.

Craig was the first to drive off the driveway. He took shaky, deep breaths as he scanned every passing building, ignoring the way his knuckles turned white from squeezing the steering wheel too hard. Likely for the first time in his life, he hated that it was nighttime. Aside from the streetlights, it was pitch dark. If Tweek decided to hide somewhere, it would be difficult to spot him, especially from his car. Upon realizing how little he could see beyond the sidewalk, Craig’s perturbation waxed. There was a nauseating feeling bubbling from his stomach. The strange sensation of anxiety coursed through Craig’s being, bringing with it chills and heart palpitations. His mouth began to salivate as if he was going to vomit. Unexpectedly, memories of the first and last time Tweek had run away forcefully penetrated Craig’s brain.

They were in the seventh grade when it occurred. Craig had snuck into Tweek’s room uninvited, only to be greeted by nothingness. What would have otherwise been a trivial concern turned worrisome the instant Craig felt Tweek’s phone vibrating from under the blankets. At the time, Stark’s Pond wasn’t a spot they frequented, which is why Craig’s last place to search for him was there. The relief he felt when he saw 12-year-old Tweek meditating amidst the pine trees was short-lived.

“Tweek, what the fuck?!” Craig exclaimed. Tweek wasn’t aware he was accompanied until he heard Craig’s voice. Therefore, he screamed louder than he ever had before. He stood from his spot and attempted to flee but was held back by Craig.

Tweek directed a punch at him as a last alternative. Fortunately, he realized who the intruder was just as he turned around. “Craig!” Cried Tweek. “What are you doing here?!”

Craig disregarded his question. He pointed at the items on the floor. “Dude, what the fuck is this?”

Tweek followed where Craig pointed, having completely forgotten what he had been previously doing until then. Utterly flustered, Tweek hurried to take hold of what he had left on the grass, but Craig was quicker. In his hands, he clasped onto a noose.

“Craig…” Tweek trailed off with a frown. He was tongue-tied; he couldn’t muster a lie to say. What could he possibly invent to convince Craig he was okay?

Through heavy breaths and blurry vision, Craig frantically surveyed their setting. After twisting and turning for a minute, his eyes eventually found what would confirm his theories. He secretly hoped he was wrong, that it was a misunderstanding, and that Tweek wasn’t plotting to do what he thought he was going to do. It was indisputable; under a sturdy pine tree, there was a tall brown stool a few feet away.

“Dude, what? What the fuck?” Craig repeated. The very rope he held tightly felt heavy, as if the entire weight of the world was compacted inside. “Are you fucking stupid?! What were you thinking?”
In reality, Craig was terrified out of his mind. Every piece of his being– down to his protons, neutrons, and electrons– trembled aggressively. However, he didn’t know how to adequately express his concerns. All he could do was lash out before his fear consumed him entirely.

“I-I don’t know, dude.”

“You don’t know? What? Did the noose magically fall out of the sky?!” Tweek remained silent, shrinking in his spot. “You can’t be serious. This is a joke.”

“Craig—”

“You can’t be this selfish, dude. This is fucked!”

“Craig!” Tweek yelled. Craig pressed his lips in a thin line as he took a deep breath. Neither said anything for a while; they simply stood and stared into each other’s eyes. The singing of the crickets, along with the hollow whispers of the trees, were the sole communicators for a moment. Finally, Tweek sighed and allowed his shoulders to drop. “Please…go home.”

His voice was hardly audible, but Craig heard the crack and fragility in it. Silent tears fell down Tweek’s swollen eyes as he moved his sight down to his feet. As Craig’s anger waned, he noted the redness of Tweek’s nose, the angry lines on his forearms, the frazzled state of his hair…Tweek was a mess, and Craig was screaming at him.

The burn of the rope in his hand brought his attention back to it. In the span of a second, Craig saw what could’ve become of Tweek had he arrived too late. Before he could register what was happening, he dropped the noose and crouched next to a bush as his stomach emptied on the ground. The retching sound filled the dead air— it was a discordant noise to their ears.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Tweek yelped as he ran to Craig’s side. He reached out to rub his back but pulled back before he made contact. He sighed dejectedly and threw himself on the ground, a few feet away from where Craig stood.

It took a few minutes to regain his composure. During this, they stayed silent and allowed the fraught wind to settle between them. Craig wiped the sweat on his forehead and stood straight once the burn in his throat numbed itself out. Though the irritation ebbed alongside the nausea, waves of unpleasant dread were thrashing inconsolably. Rather than swimming against the tides, Craig allowed himself to float.

The current led him back to the shore, back to Tweek. The two of them lay there on the grass, looking up at the stars in quietude. The New Moon’s presence lingered between the fluttering stars in the clear night sky. Then, Craig’s hand slowly inched towards Tweek’s and interlaced their fingers. The warmth of his palm and the twitch of Tweek’s fingers reminded him that he did arrive on time.

Tears trickled down Craig’s eyes and down his cheeks. “I love you, Tweek,” Craig croaked, his voice thin and trembling in a way Tweek didn’t think was possible for him.

Craig had many questions rampantly racing in his mind, yet he didn’t ask. All he did was tighten his grip on Tweek’s hand while he soundlessly cried alongside him.

Neither of them went home until the Sun made its timely appearance. It was Craig who reluctantly stood first and walked Tweek home. It was yet another of those moments where Craig wished he spoke more. Another moment he recklessly allowed to fade into obscurity.

Craig parked right across Tweak Bros. as waves of anger washed over him. The past and present alike were too much for him to know what to do with. Out of impulse, he punched the steering wheel. Consequently, the car’s horn beeped loudly, and very faintly, he heard a familiar yelp. Without a second of a doubt, he turned off his car and jogged towards the back of the shop.

There was Tweek, curled up in the fetal position, rocking himself back and forth as he wept. Initially, Craig wanted to scold him for running away, but seeing Tweek’s red face, shivering and pitifully whimpering, made the words leave his mouth.

Tweek was shirtless and had fistfuls of his hair in his hands. He hiccupped and mumbled nonsense, words Craig struggled to understand even after listening intently. He observed his surroundings in search of Tweek’s shirt and found it on the ground a couple of feet away from him. As to why he took it off, Craig wasn’t sure. He’d have to question him when he was more coherent. In a trice, he ran back to his car and retrieved his white NASA hoodie from his gym bag. Shortly after, he returned to Tweek. He kneeled in front of him and softly removed Tweek’s hands from his hair.

“Here, this will shield you from the cold,” Craig whispered as he helped slide the clothing onto Tweek. Afterward, he grasped onto Tweek’s hands and caressed his knuckles.

Tweek appeared to be lost in a trance, empty and spent. His bottom lip quivered endlessly. Craig thought back at that incident half a decade ago and how his lips moved the same way back then. He thought of the regret he felt whenever he thought of that sweet Tweek, too young to consider suicide, and how Craig still didn’t know what events pushed him there. Tweek deserved better than what he gave him that night. Although he couldn’t turn back time and do it all over, he could provide better comfort than he did at 13.

“Tweek, talk to me… I can’t understand what’s going on if you don’t tell me,” Craig whispered. “I’m worried about you; the guys are too. We’ve been looking for you. Why haven’t you answered our calls or text messages?”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault?” Tweek spat, swiftly removing his hands from Craig’s. “You all laugh and mock me all of the time. I’m not crazy.”

“Nobody is saying you’re crazy, Tweek,” Craig frowned. “I mean, think about it. It doesn’t–” Craig stopped mid-sentence. His logical way of approaching Tweek’s troubles was not suitable to ease the never-ending paranoia coursing through Tweek’s entire being. It never did. “I’m sorry– we’re all sorry, Tweek.”

Tweek stayed silent. A few seconds had passed when Craig reached out towards Tweek and placed his large hand on his chin. Softly, Craig redirected Tweek’s line of sight until their eyes met. “You can trust me. Please, talk to me.”

That’s when Tweek broke down crying. His cries were guttural, broken. Whatever was troubling Tweek was hurting him deeply; Craig wished to know what it was so he could help him solve the problems at last. Was it his parents? Was it the coffee shop?

…Was it him?

Craig sat next to him; he pressed his back against the wall before he pulled Tweek towards him until his legs were sprawled over his lap. He cradled him closely, feeling his every tremble and his every cry thundering against his chest. Every now and then, he’d remind Tweek how loved and cared for he was, how precious his existence was to many people. Tweek didn’t respond— or he was unable to. Not that Craig minded; he was complacent being there. It conveyed hope; traces of Tweek’s trust remained.

They remained there for a long time, borrowing each other’s warmth amidst the cold autumn night. Tweek’s weeps had settled eventually, and his breathing had dialed down significantly, although his body involuntarily jerked the whole way through. It was most likely past Craig’s curfew; as much as he hated parting from Tweek, they couldn’t stay outside forever. Besides, it would only be temporary because he had every intention of bringing Tweek home alongside him. Craig refused to allow another conversation to go unspoken.

“Do you want to come home with me? We could sneak in the bath together after my parents fall asleep and watch whatever you want.”

Tweek shook his head, fatigued. “I want to go home.”

Craig was stunned at the declaration. He gulped thickly. “Why?”

“I’ll feel better once I’m there.”

‘Oh.’

No matter how much Craig relented, he wouldn’t stay. At the minimum, Tweek allowed him to drive him home. There was a kiss on his cheek by the time it came to say goodbye. From the front porch, Craig saw Richard with his usual customer service smile, uncharacteristically waiting for Tweek to exit his car, which he did thereafter, much to Craig’s dismay. He watched as Tweek trotted towards Richard, who placed a hand on his lower back as he guided him inside the house. Then, Richard looked at Craig and waved farewell, his smile plastered without faltering for a single nanosecond. Before Craig could think of raising his hand to return the favor, the front door was already closed.

He didn’t steer back home immediately. Craig stalled his leave and stared through the curtains of the window, trying to catch one final glimpse of Tweek but failing to do so. There was a disgusting feeling in him; he really hated Richard’s fraudulent grin. Craig knew Richard held some disdain— it was a mutual feeling. They were both aware of their differences, though Richard maintained a fictitious attitude regardless.

There was a sentiment of defeat as Craig drove home. He failed to support Tweek once again. How many failures would it take for him to be an adequate boyfriend? Why couldn’t he get it right?

Craig sighed. He had a long, restless night ahead.

Chapter Text

Out of the eight planets in the Solar System, Jupiter— a gas giant— rotates the fastest. This is credited to its mass and composition, which is mostly hydrogen and helium. As a result, a day on Jupiter is about 10 hours.

That was the length of detention Craig had to serve.

In retrospect, Craig knew he had made a grave mistake when he persistently punched Eric Cartman in the face. He recognized his error once the adrenaline in his body ran its course, which usually happened after a while of sitting in front of the guidance counselor’s office. Unfortunately, it meant it was too late to escape the situation he got himself into. Once he was sitting at— what the students called— the “hall of shame,” there was no way to avoid the consequences of his actions.

Craig couldn’t remember the last time he blacked out from rage; it must’ve been four years ago— he couldn’t even remember what happened that day either. The fights always escalated so quickly; he could hardly keep track of his lefts from his rights and his ups from his downs; all that mattered to him at those precise moments was retribution.

Through the years, Craig became harder to anger. For a kid who swore he was careless, he was easy to provoke; a simple word such as “inadequate” aimed at him was enough to get him seeing red. As it stands, Craig was no longer lashing out about being outmatched or struggling to complete certain activities, though it deeply perturbed him all the same. The difference lay in recognizing when he was getting frustrated and why.

Then, what did Eric Cartman do to land Craig Tucker in Counselor Victoria’s office?

He said a stupid, silly “joke” meant exclusively for his friends to hear that— to Cartman’s dismay— accidentally made its way to Craig’s ears. There were five minutes left before the first period would commence when Craig happened to pass by Cartman’s homeroom after taking a detour from his usual path. Usually, Craig drowned out the endless chatter of students, but Cartman’s voice was too obnoxious to ignore. If it wasn’t for the scared look on his face as Craig directed a fist at him, Craig would’ve thought he told the joke with the intention for him to hear.

Although the exact events were blurry in Craig’s memory, he remembered Stan Marsh saying he wanted a drink from the very coffee shop Craig had grown to despise, followed shortly by the distinct sound of Tweek’s name— and how ugly it sounded coming out of Cartman.

“I wouldn’t drink anything made by Tweek. I don’t want to catch his spaz disease,” Cartman cackled.

Craig had stopped dead in his tracks right then and there. Perhaps he could’ve been able to push through his bad temper if Cartman had stopped there, but, of course, Cartman had to take it a step further after the small group of people surrounding him failed to find his joke funny.

“Oh, come on, guys, it’s just a joke,” he chuckled. “Hey, you guys remember that one time when he fell and spilled our drinks all over himself? That was pretty funny. I wish I had a pic—”

Craig didn’t give Cartman a chance to finish that sentence; he chose to introduce his fist to Cartman’s face to finish it for him.

That was as far as Craig’s memory took him. He didn’t even know how many punches he landed before he was stopped. He could simply assume it took a while since, according to Clyde’s text message, he’d broken Cartman’s nose. Next thing he knew, he was listening to Laura, Thomas, Counselor Victoria, and Principal Charles discussing what they would do as punishment.

Craig thought he would definitely get expelled for causing a serious injury, which meant he had to kiss MIT goodbye. The realization concerned him despite the cold demeanor he presented to everyone. What worried him most wasn’t losing the chance to attend MIT— not that he was unworried about it— but the possibility of failing to become an astrophysicist if he were unable to get accepted anywhere. To make matters worse, Craig was legally an adult, which meant expulsion wasn’t the worst punishment he could face.

If Eric Cartman and his mother were to press charges against Craig, he could face time in jail.

Moreover, what would Tweek say upon finding out what Craig had done? What would he do when he realized Craig wasn’t as reliable as he possibly once thought?

“Craig Tucker, what did you get yourself into?” Counselor Victoria shook her head as she flipped through the pages in a folder. She took her glasses off and looked straight at him, “Do you want to explain what happened?”

He couldn’t explain even if he tried.

No matter what, Eric Cartman’s stupid attempt at a joke didn’t warrant such an extreme reaction– a threat and a punch to the gut would have sufficed; if he had done that, he could’ve walked away unscathed. Then, he thought of Tweek falling over at work and being laughed at, how humiliated he must have been…And Craig wasn’t there to defend him; he didn’t even know it happened. Craig felt worse; he failed Tweek twice.

There was no multiverse in which Craig would confess all of that. He’d rather die than express such vulnerability.

“No,” he answered.

Counselor Victoria sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed, “Young man, do you realize how lucky you are? You just broke a student’s nose, and his mother has decided to not involve law enforcement; that means your punishment is up to us.”

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Laura asked, clearly taken aback by the severity of the situation. Craig didn’t have to look at her to know she was disappointed in his behavior, and for the first time, he cared.

”Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, your son here broke Eric Cartman’s nose this morning before class,” Principal Charles announced. “Two faculty members had to hold him back from doing further damage. It’s hard to tell whether your son would’ve stopped on his own or if he would’ve left him unconscious.”

”Craig Tucker!” Exclaimed Laura, “What in God’s name were you thinking?”

“‘If he can’t shut his mouth, I will shut it for him,’” Craig answered honestly. The adults in the room gasped, appalled by his words. It wasn’t the first time people looked at him as if he was a criminal, but it was the first time Craig felt bothered by it. His first instinct was to lash out– to flip them off, roll his eyes, and ask for his punishment already like he always did when he got himself into trouble. However, if he acted upon his impulses, it’d be as if he gave up on his future with Tweek. He couldn’t let him down again.

Craig twisted uncomfortably in his chair, pushing his bloodied fists inside his hoodie’s front pocket as if to hide them from their eyes. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? He said some shit about Tweek and my rage just took over me. I can’t allow anyone to talk about my boyfriend that way.”

Craig avoided eye contact and looked down at his dirty high-top Vans, unknowing of the way the gaze of the adults in the room softened. There were a few pulses of uncomfortable silence; it made Craig wish a black hole could appear underneath him and suck him in.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing worth repeating.”

“But it was worth your entire future?” Laura scolded. Craig sunk deeper into the chair.

“Listen, Craig,” Counselor Victoria said. “I’ve heard from past teachers of yours how unruly you were when you were younger. Most were surprised you haven’t stepped foot in juvie; they were even more surprised when I said there hadn’t been a reason to. I told them you’re a bright man with a bright future. I mean, your grades speak for themselves, and your PSAT score? Were you aware that you placed in the top percentages of test takers?”

Craig remained silent, his eyes still glued to his shoes as if they had the answer to time travel. He felt discomforted and awkward; every minute seemed to stretch out for hours.

Once it was clear that Craig would not reply, Victoria took a deep breath and continued, “Well, we took everything into consideration— the witness testimonies, your grades, and your conduct. We have decided 10 days of after-school detention would be enough punishment.” Laura and Thomas both sighed in relief. “We also decided to not report this incident in the school’s disciplinary record to not ruin your chance at finding a good school. All we ask from you, Craig Tucker, is to never allow this to happen again.”

Finally, Craig acknowledged Counselor Victoria with a nod. Amidst his cloud of shame, he saw sunshine– hope. He was given a chance to redeem himself. Craig felt pride swell in his chest. Rather than expelling him and sending him away, they saw his potential and believed in him. Craig looked up at both the counselor and principal.

“Thank you,” he said before he rushed out of the office.

Craig didn’t care whether his parents wanted to speak to him or not. He just wanted to escape from the torture they had put him on; the time in detention surely couldn’t be as bad as the pressure of four adults shaking their heads at him.

Since there were a few minutes before the next period, Craig decided to head to the auditorium, a place he knew would be empty, so he could think. Once there, he sat all the way in the back with a sigh. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles, a sign of his ignorance, and wiped the dried blood using the inside of his hoodie. Everything worked in his favor; he was relieved.

‘But what if it hadn’t?’

Craig hesitated to answer. He was ashamed of his blunder. He thought he had changed— that he had learned self-control, but he proved himself wrong. What happened? Why did he falter?

Upon thinking about it, he figured Tweek had become somewhat of a sensitive subject for him. The more he thought about it, the more the situation sunk in.

The pain was sharp, yet silent– the pain of watching your lover hurting and not being able to heal him. Craig despised dropping him off at the place responsible for his fatigue. Nonetheless, there was no evading. He could only watch as Tweek’s body began to ache from work, how the light behind his eyes trembled whenever he had an upcoming shift. There was nothing Craig could do to stop those shifts from happening.

It was affecting Tweek more than he’d let on. He kept quiet about his troubles, continually insisting he was okay every time Craig or their friends questioned him. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide from Craig, who saw the truth of his emotions in his eyes. The irritation in his voice, the furrow in his brows, the clench of his jaw— Craig knew that feeling all too well; he hated that he did.

The feeling of fearing so much, yet not knowing why. Everyone was always in your face when you wanted to be left alone, though the loneliness was horrible. Days that squashed into one long, never-ending day; a whole month could go by without your awareness. It was easy to lose track of the world in that trance. Not knowing who to trust because it was embarrassing to admit your fears– they sounded so stupid and trivial.

Craig didn’t recall when he began to assimilate Tweek to himself, perhaps when Clyde offered Tweek assistance in opening a carton of milk, solely to have Tweek brush him off aggressively. For a moment, Craig saw a glimpse of his younger self. Back when he felt so small, like prey, and everybody was a predator. He had to attack before them as a defensive strategy. Nobody would be fighting for him, so he became his own warrior.

Being able to draw a parallel between himself and Tweek wasn’t something Craig pictured doing in a million years. It was discomforting if Craig was being honest. He couldn’t help it, though; it was uncanny. A person who often confessed to being incapable of anything had become committed to doing everything on his own. He was constantly on guard, tense and nervous. Similarly to Stripe, the guinea pig Craig and Tweek used to own in fifth grade, he was skittish and dubious about others’ motives– therein lies the difference. Where Craig was able to mask his suspicions towards everybody, Tweek’s body was willing to betray its lying owner. Craig could practically see the millions of absurd theories Tweek was inventing about the possible dangers he could be in; his mind was more outlandish than Craig’s ever was. It broke his heart to see Tweek constantly frightened. He wished to hold him tenderly, to protect and cherish him like never before.

If only Tweek would let him.

As if there was dark energy between them, Tweek and Craig were expanding outwards. Craig didn’t know what it was, nor could he see it, but he could sense it. Every day, he felt slightly colder, as though he was an inch further from his star.

Craig held tightly onto Tweek, refusing to give in. Still, it was hard when Tweek pulled away. The insomnia weighed heavily on him; he was irritable. Anything was bound to trigger Tweek down a spiral. Not to mention how frail he looked. He lost a minimum of five pounds, and his tousled hair was deficient of the shine it once had. When Craig brought up his sickly appearance, Tweek exploded and assumed Craig was calling him unattractive, which wasn’t the case at all. He purely wanted to take care of him.

As strange as the outburst was, it was just one of the peculiar ways Tweek was different. Ever since the conversation at Tweak Bros. with his parents, Tweek had been off. At first, it was a trivial change in the way he spoke– an inconspicuous tremble in his voice. Although, in the context of the aftermath of an anxiety attack, it wasn’t absurd for Tweek to be different, especially when he was forced to handle it on his own. He didn’t like to speak of the events of that night; whenever Craig asked, Tweek cowered and swiftly changed the subject. Therefore, Craig learned to not probe any further. Nevertheless, it festered in the back of his mind like a virus.

Tweek walked and talked faster. He developed a habit of mumbling to himself, and he was lost in his thoughts. It was a manifestation of stress–at least according to Craig, who began to observe the anomalies in Tweek’s behavior as if he were an astrophysicist monitoring disturbances in orbits of celestial bodies. Finding explanations for his oddities was the only way to ease his mind.

Try as he might, Craig couldn’t shake the curiosity, especially when the dissonance between them lingered above him as if it were his personal satellite. As hurt as he was, he forced himself to push it down. He was supposed to be rational— that was his primary role in the relationship. He had to be enduring for both of them. Sometimes endurance required apathy, or at least that’s what he told himself. In reality, being with Tweek probably made him feel more than he would otherwise. The problem was that he didn’t know exactly what to do with those other than internalize them.

From Tweek, Craig learned the value of empathy and just how much he was lacking it; how much better a person he’d be if he would just allow himself to feel, to let go. Self-restraint was a positive thing until it got in the way of connection; if he couldn’t connect with anybody, he would continue to cause problems such as the one he placed himself in.

However, that was easier than done. In Craig’s mind, Tweek’s kind words encouraged him, yet for every word Tweek uttered, words from his childhood resounded louder. From the years before Tweek, when Thomas and Laura would remind Craig of the importance of independence and self-reliance. Thomas constantly told him to not cry, to man up, to stop being a fucking queer. All while Laura silently supported him and denied Craig solace.

The time for third-period class arrived too quickly. Craig wished for more time to gather his thoughts. He forced himself out of the polyester red chair and walked towards the exit. Since his Computer Science class was next to Tweek’s English class, they usually walked together. It was very likely that Tweek already knew about the fight, and he was probably disheartened by his behavior. Therefore, in his mind, Craig practiced the best answers to Tweek’s questions to avoid a discourse from occurring between them.

As he arrived at their typical meet-up spot, he was surprised to see Tweek seemingly uncaring. When their eyes met, Craig’s heart stuttered. Every time he saw him, it was as if they were meeting for the first time. Then, Tweek smiled, and Craig almost returned it. If Tweek was smiling so widely, it meant Craig would have to break the news of his fight.

Once Craig was close enough, Tweek skipped over to him and met him halfway. “I have great news!” He chirped. Craig was stunned at his cheerful mood. Gossip usually traveled at the speed of light; whoever stayed home from school probably already knew of their fight. How did Tweek not hear of it?

Craig remained still. He hadn’t practiced how he would announce his careless regression in his theoretical conversations because he counted on Tweek already knowing. The sound of someone slamming their locker broke Craig out of his trance just as Tweek continued to rant about aliens canceling their attack on Earth and how they were retrieving their laser beams from–

‘Wait, what?’ Craig thought as he furrowed his brow. He reminded himself to circle back to the alien talk after they conversed about his fight.

“Hold on, honey,” Craig interjected Tweek’s incoherent ramblings. He momentarily paused and pursed his lips. “Babe, I have something to tell you.”

“Ack! If it’s about the fight, I already know, and I don’t really care,” Tweek stammered with a shrug. Craig was baffled. All that left his mouth was a silent ‘oh’ while he absentmindedly watched Tweek shove random papers in his locker.

As frivolous as it seemed, Craig felt a slight sting at the lack of Tweek’s concern. It wasn’t that he wanted to worry Tweek more that he expected him to at least consider the topic worthy of discussion. It was complicated to explain, worse to understand; Craig couldn’t quite piece it all together. He also didn’t understand why he was surprised at his lack of care. Tweek’s usual kind-hearted nature was not as prominent as it once was.

Sometime during Tweek’s chatter, he started to make sense again. “I was hoping that right after school, we could–ack!– go to Stark’s Pond to collect clovers for an art project.”

“I can’t,” Craig frowned. His lip twitched in mild frustration. If Tweek had bothered asking, he would have known about his punishment. “I have an hour of after-school detention for 10 days.” Tweek’s smile fell almost instantly, and his head snapped towards Craig’s direction.

Solar flares– that’s how Craig saw Tweek’s bursts of anger. They were sudden and powerful, unforeseeable and erratic in nature. Craig mentally classified using the logarithmic scale, measuring their intensity as he would for the Sun. However, before Craig could attempt to analyze the degree of his wrath, Tweek reacted first.

“How could you be so selfish?” He shouted.

The sound of the students bustling through the halls and their endless conversations mostly drowned Tweek’s voice. A few of them were still able to pick out the sound and turned towards them to look, prompting Craig to drag them to a quiet corner. Once there, Tweek released his hand from Craig’s grasp. They stood across each other, only two feet apart. Craig hoped to settle the dispute within the last few minutes before class. Otherwise, neither of them would be able to focus on their schoolwork.

Out of all accusations Craig expected, selfishness wasn’t one of them, although he supposed it wasn’t necessarily wrong for Tweek to see it that way. Except Craig wasn’t acting out on purpose. He didn’t have egotistical intentions when he reacted. Of course, he wasn’t going to avoid assuming responsibility; he solely didn’t want Tweek to misunderstand him.

“I wasn’t thinking, Tweek, I’m sorry.” Craig attempted to reach out to him, but Tweek shooed his hands away.

“Will you always be like this? Ack! I’m getting tired of your whole angsty-teenage dirtbag shtick. I don’t want to babysit you any longer!”

Craig wasn’t aware Tweek felt that way about him. He thought the scariest news he would’ve heard was being expelled, thereby ruining his chance at becoming an astrophysicist. He was terribly wrong. Tweek confirming everything Craig thought about himself was beyond anything he ever imagined. The heartbreak expanded to a molecular level.

“I was only trying to defend you.” He didn’t know why no other words escaped him. He wanted Tweek to understand it was a lapse in judgment. Craig was capable of being stable; he could handle it all. He didn’t need anybody to guide him through anything.

Tweek didn’t take his words kindly. Craig made it worse, and he knew it. The situation was escalating too rapidly; an M-Class flare, the second strongest type. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Tweek, I didn’t–” Craig was interjected by the sound of Tweek slapping himself hard across his face. Craig stood stunned. Tweek had never done that. Through his worst, he had never done something so violent towards himself.

On his face, he had left a very vibrant red mark— Craig winced upon looking at it. Despite the fierceness of the hit, Tweek appeared unfazed. He was angry, not pained. If it wasn’t for the blood pooling beneath the skin that painted his cheek red, nobody would guess he had been slapped. Craig heard the minute bell ring, symbolizing they had a minute left to get to class, though he couldn’t care. His fists clenched, and his throat closed up. Tweek didn’t say anything; instead, he had an expectant look in his eyes as if asking Craig to say something to make it all better.

He had raging wars in his head; he wanted to be open and communicate to Tweek how scared he was for him, how Tweek’s mental health was deteriorating and Craig was worried he wouldn’t do enough— be enough— to help him. On the other hand, he couldn’t admit he was scared because that would make Tweek realize how flimsy he was. Tweek already thought of him as a child he had to babysit; Craig didn’t want him to say he was also a phony.

All of that resulted in Craig— unable to find peace within his vulnerability— staring at Tweek with longing eyes. “Tweek…” He couldn’t get any other word out. Then, the bell rang, and the halls emptied.

Scared of saying the wrong thing, Craig choked on his words. He wanted to stop Tweek from walking away— to yell, to cry, to beg— but he couldn’t. Instead, he counted the steps Tweek took as his figure became smaller and smaller.

Chapter Text

When Craig awoke, he was disoriented; he felt as though he had orbited the Earth four times in his sleep due to the extreme dizziness. He couldn’t recall with exactitude when he fell asleep since he hadn’t intended to. He figured it must have been around 4 after his 20th call to Tweek went straight to voicemail. That was three hours ago, and there were still no messages or missed calls from his phone.

The more Craig thought about it, the more his stomach hurt; it was an odd feeling he hadn’t felt before. It seemed that was becoming increasingly common lately. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Without Tweek, he felt lost. It was hard to align everything he felt and digest it. He didn’t even know where to begin.

Tweek was right– he had been babysitting Craig. He was foolish to think otherwise.

Craig felt his throat closing up on him. To stop his rampant thoughts from spiraling, he tossed his phone aside and settled his sight on the planets hanging off his ceiling. They had been there for years, but he never bothered to take them down, similar to the way he never took down his tattered astrophysics posters or glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to the ceiling. Somehow, they made him nostalgic. Gazing at them felt like time traveling— as if teleporting back to a time when life was simple and stress-free. He smiled as he remembered the days when he and Tweek innocently played around, the fights and conversations they shared, however meaningless they were, all gone in the past, reduced to nothing but a fleeting memory— some not even remembered at all.

Next year, there might not be any memories made under the same planetary decor, and for the first time, he felt there might not be any new memories made at all.

A knock on his bedroom door broke him out of his thoughts. Craig wanted to ignore it and pretend he was still sleeping, but for some reason, he invited the person to come in. The door opened slowly, and Laura’s head peeked in.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” She greeted. Craig was unusually calm about her welcoming energy; he couldn’t stand happy people when he was upset. “Dinner is ready.”

Craig didn’t answer, causing Laura’s smile to slowly drop. For once, he wasn’t glaring at her or replying with indifference. If anybody else looked at him, they’d think nothing of it. Craig had a stoic face most of the time. However, Laura learned to read the truth behind his impassive facial expression. At that moment, she could see a newfound melancholy in Craig’s eyes; he appeared to be at a loss, somewhere stuck in limbo.

Laura didn’t want to violate his privacy, but she couldn’t simply walk away without showing she was interested in listening. She left the door slightly agape before making her way into his room. She sat down at the edge of his bed and placed a loving hand on his calf.

“Craig,” she said nervously, hesitating whether she should speak in fear she’d end up pushing him away. How couldn’t she say something, though? Craig was displaying his stress openly, finally peeking out from the solitary cocoon he had been in for years. “You might feel better if you let out what’s troubling you.”

Laura chose her words very carefully, allowing Craig enough space to talk about whatever he wanted rather than feeling like he was being coddled.

Confiding in Laura was not something Craig had intentionally planned to do, but he was tired. He had exhausted his methods. He wondered whether he should simply give it a rest. The feeling of defeat was uncharted territory for Craig; perhaps that’s why his defenses came tumbling down.

“Tweek is mad at me,” he divulged. His voice was thin and had a slight tremble. Laura nodded, keeping her reaction at a minimum. “And I don’t know what to say when I see him… if I see him.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Well, you know him best, but I don’t think Tweek could stay mad at you for very long. Let him feel what he feels, and he’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

“No…this is different. Something feels weird about him. I think he’s stressed from school and work; he’s overwhelmed, and I can’t…” Craig paused, hesitating whether he should continue the sentence or not. Ultimately, he decided against it. “I don’t know…”

“You’ve figured him out before; I know you can do it again. You guys have something special, and special always works itself out,” Laura reassured. “Didn’t you tell me something about the perfect universe once?”

Craig was taken aback and chortled, “What does Galileo challenging the Catholic Church about planet orbits have to do with this?”

“Well, I think I remember you telling me everyone thought Earth was the center of the universe and everything orbited around us; God created the perfect universe. But Galic knew the universe wasn’t so perfect; it was complex— difficult and challenging, hard to understand— but that’s what made it so beautiful…imperfectly perfect.”

Craig was silent for a while, amazed at Laura’s words. He turned to look at her, his face visibly more relaxed than it was before. “Mom, I told you about Galileo when I was, like, 13.”

Craig remembered the interaction. He had initiated it, unprompted, after a long while of not approaching his parents beyond the necessary. It was a trivial conversation, one that didn’t need to be had, but that’s probably what made it so special. The reason was Craig’s English assignment; he had been instructed to write an informative essay based on a list of important historical figures provided by the teacher. No words could describe Craig’s excitement when he saw Galileo Galilei amongst them. Hence, why he shared the topic of his report with his mom.

Laura smiled gently. “I remembered because I care.” They shared a moment of understanding, silent but comfortable. “Now, come on, I made roast beef. Go wash up and meet us downstairs when you’re ready.”

Before she exited the room, Craig interrupted, “And it’s Galileo, Mom, not Galic.”

She shrugged, “Close enough.”

Laura shut the door behind her, leaving Craig in the dark again. On his face, there was a smile. Expressing his feelings felt nicer than he expected.

Dinner went surprisingly well. It wasn’t as quiet and uncomfortable as he had grown accustomed to. It had effectively made Craig forget about the pain in his heart for a bit. Tricia was as silly as usual, fighting for the best piece of meat while stealing pieces from Thomas’ plate when he wasn’t looking. Craig even conversed with Thomas about vintage technology and found out Laura had a love for science as well. Craig still felt awkward whenever he spoke, but he put in more effort than he had prior. That was enough to put a smile on Thomas and Laura’s faces— even Tricia looked happier.

Craig sensed how cheerful their family was; he couldn’t help feeling guilty. He incessantly resided in his own world. He never paused to look around and notice how his behavior affected the entire family. Unknowingly, he had caused a ridge between their family time. He robbed everyone of standard family dinners and fun vacations. Why?

Craig was aware of how far apart he kept himself from others. With or without Tweek, Craig wasn’t bothered by the absence of close emotional relationships. He preferred to relish in his own company, in silence, studying astronomy or playing whatever game he found interesting at the time. He grew to enjoy his friends’ company, but he seldom spoke about his personal life to them— to anybody, for that matter.

It took Tweek some time to chip away his cold exterior, though the walls never entirely crumbled. There were some things Craig thought were better when reserved, or in other words, he felt too protective of his pride to let those feelings roam. With a surprising amount of free time on his hands, he spent a lot of time in Stark’s Pond by himself, pondering over the occasions his life would’ve benefited from by liberating his heart. His lack of openness most likely caused more problems than solved, made more enemies than friends, and created more insecurities than self-confidence.

Tweek’s role in Craig’s emotional state had him feeling vulnerable, like a satellite without an atmosphere, free of defenses to soften the impact of his thoughts. He felt there was no gravity keeping him steady. Consequently, he was left wondering about who he was.

Craig was apathetic about many things; he had to admit he could be self-centered, abrasive, and arrogant, and even Tweek couldn’t change those core characteristics in his personality. Craig never wanted him to either; those traits kept him away from petty school drama and closer to his aspirations. He couldn’t change the way others felt about him, nor did he care; if they disliked him as he was, that was none of his business.

The fact of the matter was he did care.

Craig cared too much about what others thought of him; that’s why he’d always been so quick to anger. He couldn’t believe just how long it had taken him to realize he built his personality to protect himself from pain and deception. Most of all, he did it to impress his parents because he couldn’t handle the way they looked at him whenever they were disappointed. He always hated the idea of failure— he was aware of that— he just hadn’t realized the extent of his fears.

In the situation Craig was in, he couldn’t run away from the pain anymore and was forced to face it. There was no sound or person to distract him; he had no choice but to focus on his feelings.

How did Craig feel?

He felt the same way he did as a child— abandoned.

Craig never admitted it, not to anyone, not to himself, but he missed Clara. Growing up without her— knowing of her, yet never being able to reach her— sucked. He always believed he had failed to impress her, and that’s why she left. Against his will, did she come back, and he had no control over when to see her. Clara demanded in court that Craig visit her in Peru without asking him if that’s what he wanted. Still, Craig learned an entirely new language to please the woman who abandoned him.

He carried much of that anger with him. The confusion and the lack of control over the situation dictated the way he handled everything in his life, including his relationships with the people around him. It wasn’t fair to his loved ones, who shaped him into the best version of himself.

Tricia was the first person Craig felt the need to protect. She was a bunch of stars rolled up into one— like a galaxy— who didn’t get to burn the disapproving looks of Thomas and Laura into her memory because they knew better by the time she was a toddler. Craig preferred it that way; he’d never want her to grow exhausted from trying so hard like he had. Moreover, Tricia never saw Craig as anything but her older brother. She was the first person to see past his behavior. She taught him how gentle punches could be used to show love, not hatred. His greatest weapon didn’t scare her. Consequently, it stopped scaring Craig as well. If she believed he could be in control of himself, then maybe Craig could, too.

Thomas and Laura hadn’t given up on him after years of Craig’s stubbornness. They always tried to give him what he needed, and outside of his own mind, they had succeeded in providing a safe space. They were strict but loving, even after they had received the cold shoulder from Craig many times. Every day, they aspired to be better— unlike Richard and Helen. Craig was thankful for their efforts; he should’ve appreciated them sooner.

Clyde was his first-ever friend. He was the first person outside his family who didn’t label him as a good-for-nothing troublemaker. He showed him friendship, which allowed Craig to make space for Tolkien and Jimmy. They were a group of misfits; they kept Craig sane for so long. They offered an escape from himself and his obsession with success. Yet, Craig treated them with indifference, scared to confront the idea of losing everyone the way he had lost his mom.

Then, Tweek, oh, his beautiful, shining star, who he probably coddled and depended on too much. He adored every piece about him, from his golden curls to the cute toes on his feet. Precisely then, Craig realized his infatuation went further than that. Craig loved the way Tweek made him feel— needed, strong, and steady. Somewhere, deep inside, he never recovered from seeing Tweek as someone who was a prisoner to his feelings, and Craig wanted nothing more to break him free. Why? Maybe because he thought that would make him better when he was already imperfectly perfect, like the universe Galileo had talked about.

Craig was never meant to be his savior; it was wrong that they built that routine to begin with. He knew Tweek was stronger than him— he never denied it, yet he hadn’t accepted it. In fact, it was Tweek who saved him. Every single thing in his life that was kind and merciful came from Tweek; all his relationships improved because Tweek showed him the kindness of people.

Tweek deserved better; Craig had never been good enough. He could change that, though; he could be good enough if he tried. He could learn to be kind and merciful. He was willing to put in all the work.

Then, Craig realized how much he had fucked up. He single-handedly ruined the success of his relationships by being asocial and uncaring. He didn’t develop any meaningful bonds despite the endless support he received. As it stands, he wasn’t fully ready to tear down his walls, though he could afford to put effort into forming genuine friendships. He could learn to care; he could learn to trust. In a way, Craig made the first step toward improvement. Conversing with his family during dinner and smiling alongside them was fulfilling for him. He felt less alone.

There, in the darkness of his room once again, Craig felt a slither of light coming from his own heart.

Craig always said his favorite planet was Jupiter, albeit it wasn’t the truth. In actuality, he favored Earth over the gas giant. It was the only known planet thus far capable of sustaining life, and it was visually the most remarkable. As to why he’d lie, the reason was absurd. The truth was that before Craig fell in love with space, he fell in love with Earth first. As a kid, he had a secret passion for foliage and animals. Most of all, he loved flowers. In fact, he always wanted a terrarium for his room, but he never dared to ask for fear of being called a fag for his liking. As an overly conservative, Thomas once said, ‘Flowers are for girls,’ when he caught a five-year-old Craig making a bouquet out of daffodils. At that moment, Craig learned he could only love flowers from a distance.

If he had to choose his favorite, it would be sunflowers. He used to have an affinity for primroses and zinnias, but he grew to love the brightness of sunflowers more. In his otherwise dull, monochromatic life, sunflowers brought a lively color; it made him feel good. Plus, sunflowers have been to space, and Craig really liked that.

Craig was nothing like sunflowers. In actuality, he was the opposite, like black roses or white lilies. His presence didn’t bring anyone overwhelming joy; instead, he evoked discomfort in people. If nothing else, Tweek was akin to a sunflower: bright, beautiful, and resilient. Luckily, he was also fond of them, which meant that in some shape or form, Craig was able to keep sunflowers in his life. Moreover, he got to see the person he loved with the flowers he adored.

Craig remembered the day of homecoming. Tweek surprised him with a sunflower corsage.

“I look good on you,” Tweek smiled with a faint blush as he slipped it on Craig’s wrist. “If it’s too embarrassing to wear, you can take it off…”

Although Tweek was correct about his embarrassment, Craig loved it more than he could voice out loud. Tweek didn’t complain when Craig slipped it on his breast pocket, but there was a prominent pout on his lip before he was engulfed in a tight hug by Craig. He might not have been as bold as Tweek, who proudly wore his navy blue rose corsage on his wrist, but Craig didn’t love it any less. A year later, the corsage remained on his desk, wilted and dried. Even so, Craig never ceased to find it beautiful.

Sunflowers were no longer solely beautiful greenery; they were a relic, memories of their past encaptured in the form of flora. That’s why Craig brought a bouquet of sunflowers to Tweek– to remind him of who they were and of the good times they shared. They could go back if he just allowed it.

Craig had expected to find him in the coffee shop or perhaps doing volunteer work at school. However, the truth was more heartbreaking than that. If Tweek had been busy, Craig would’ve understood why he was unable to reach the phone. It would’ve been easier to move on and forget he had been near tears minutes ago. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case because Craig found Tweek in his room, lost in mind while he worked on a canvas.

“This is wrong…” Tweek mumbled under his breath, one hand gripping a #2 pencil tightly whilst the other scratched his skin harshly. “Maybe if I add more blue…”

Truthfully, it was endearing to see Tweek so absorbed in his art that everything else in the world disappeared— Craig could relate. Albeit, he could never forget about Tweek, especially not when they had a previous commitment. “Tweek, honey, can we talk?” Craig asked in a soft voice, feeling oddly vulnerable. He slowly walked towards Tweek’s desk. “Look, why don’t we go to Stark’s Pond? It’s been a while since we last went.”

Tweek continued to be unresponsive. His neck snapped harshly, but his eyes never tore themselves away from his work. “I have to, nngg, add the shadows.”

“Tweek, honey…”

Craig reached out to touch Tweek, hoping to break him out of his hyper-fixation. He didn’t expect Tweek to slap his hand away. The hit left a scalding sting, burning the spot down to the very atoms that composed his body. Never mind his feelings of irrelevancy, which grew more forceful as Tweek continued to disregard him, being shoved off hurt tenfold. Nonetheless, he swallowed his emotions down. Looking at the dozen sunflowers in his hand made that easier.

“Ack! Craig, you’re so annoying, just go away!” Tweek yelled, slamming the pencil against the desk.

Unexpectedly, Craig’s phone went off in his pocket, interrupting Craig as he was about to speak. Tweek instantly snapped his head towards Craig, his face twisted into an emotion he hadn’t seen on him before— one mixed with anger, betrayal, disgust, and suspicion.

“Who is that?”

Craig frowned at the hostile attitude. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with sweaty hands. “It’s just my mom,” he said. Tweek proceeded to harshly yank the phone out of his hand.

“‘She wants to go out with you tomorrow,’” Tweek read loudly. His expression darkened. “Go out? Who is ‘she’?”

Craig was baffled. The implication of what Tweek said was so preposterous that he nearly laughed. “Tweek, you can’t be serious.”

Craig couldn’t believe what was happening. He doubted his reality when Tweek didn’t respond and held his stance firmly. His bloodshot eyes were locked on his, glaring at him fiercely while he aggressively chewed on his bottom lip. Seeing him so visibly angry made Craig question his consciousness even more. For a brief second, he wondered if he never woke up from his nap. That would explain his seemingly random decision to be vulnerable with Laura.

“She’s talking about Tricia, Tweek,” Craig deadpanned. “She’s forcing me to teach Tricia how to drive as punishment for fighting Cartman.”

“Yeah? Ack! Then, why would she say ‘go out’ like it’s some sort of date, huh?”

Craig could no longer hide he was increasingly upset. “Jesus Christ, Tweek, go out to the practice road at the damn DMV. Why are you insinuating I’d cheat on you, let alone with a woman?”

“I can tell you’re tired of me; I’m not an idiot,” Tweek scoffed. “You can’t fool me! I see your eyes wandering around lately. I see the way you look at Clyde. Gah!”

Craig’s jaw dropped. Never once throughout their relationship was Tweek ever jealous. Despite his insecurities, he never questioned Craig’s loyalty; neither did he ever doubt Tweek. There was no reason to. It didn’t matter if they had sleepovers with others or made new friends. Even during Craig’s brief period of denial— back when he festered some resentment toward himself for being queer— they remained devoted to their relationship. Craig loved it that way; the fact they understood each other so well that they knew their hearts undoubtedly belonged to one another.

Then, why would Tweek suddenly accuse him of betrayal? Especially with Clyde, of all people.

“Clyde? Tweek, you got to be fucking kidding me. The last person I’d cheat on you with is Clyde— I’d cheat on you with a woman before I’d cheat on you with Clyde.”

“So you would cheat on me?”

Craig huffed. He looked out the window that stood in front of Tweek’s desk. From there, the sky was nothing but a black background. All he could see were the lampposts on the streets and their yellow lights shining down at an otherwise empty sidewalk. For some reason, it deeply saddened Craig.

At that moment, he was transported far away from the Tweak household. He was back at their special spot, smelling the morning dew, all while his hoodie absorbed the moisture as he lay down on the grass. There was nobody in sight, just Tweek lying beside him with a grin on his face. Looking at his nose scrunching up and his eyes squinting while his ears were blessed by his melodious giggling had Craig at peace.

Craig was overcome by wanderlust. He wanted to fly a rocket ship to the Andromeda Galaxy and start anew. He inwardly smiled as he pondered the concept of actually doing so– how it’d feel to live far away from everyone and everything, to be alone in space with Tweek.

Tweek thrusting his phone into his hands instantaneously brought Craig back to his pitiful reality. The starry night was reduced to a black background, the dancing trees converted into streetlights, and the grass transformed into pavement. And that cute, smiling Tweek became angry once more.

Craig had to close his eyes to stop tears from forming. Then, he sighed. “Tweek, I’m confused. I don’t understand what gave you this impression.”

“So you’re just going to act stupid?”

“I’m not acting as anything.”

“Oh, so you just are stupid.” Craig was left dumbfounded. He looked back at the window, hoping to see Andromeda there waiting for his return. Nothing. “Gah! You haven’t even denied it!”

“I didn’t think I had to, Tweek, it’s obvious!”

“Oh, so now I’m the stupid one?”

Craig’s jaw clenched. A muted frustration simmering in his chest was making him lose his sense of rationality and judgment. He took a deep breath and forced himself to forget whatever hurt feelings he was holding onto— they didn’t matter anyway.

It didn’t matter that the person who knew him most thought of him as someone with little integrity, to the extent that he began to doubt his morality and character just like everyone else did. It especially didn’t matter that Tweek called him stupid because he wasn’t frail.

It was just a fluke— a momentary lapse.

He really didn’t care.

At all.

‘Get a fucking grip of yourself, queer.’

“Come on, Tweek, I didn’t say that,” Craig sighed. He didn’t have much spare energy left. He wanted to calm it down. “Let’s not do this, please, I’m sorry, okay?”

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. He knew he hadn’t communicated himself properly. Craig didn’t mean to sound dismissive; he was solely frustrated by the accusations and at himself for never getting it right. He was tired of the fighting. He missed Tweek, his gentle and caring boyfriend, the bright star with the loveliest voice. Craig missed his singing. When was the last time he heard Tweek sing?

“See, this is exactly why everyone thinks you’re never going to amount to anything!” He yelled as his neck began to snap to the side. He turned around and kicked his desk chair, where it slammed against the wall, knocking the books on the shelves to the ground. Craig flinched from the sudden action and stared as they hit the floor one by one.

His heart was pounding harshly in his chest; it hurt so much that it was hard to breathe. He wondered if that was how others felt whenever he angrily punched a surface— confused, stunned, helpless, and even a little scared.

“You’re a quitter— a coward— who gives up instead of putting in any effort. You’re not capable of change; you’re not capable of anything!”

His words almost seemed intentional— as if he was willingly hurting Craig by using his insecurities against him. It was a betrayal, worse than being accused of cheating. Tweek was using what Craig told him in confidence like a weapon. He couldn’t understand why; what had he done so wrong to have Tweek turn on him in such a way?

He was at a complete loss of what to do; all he managed was to look at the fallen books. He noted one of them he gifted to Tweek in eighth grade. It was one of those cheesy ‘what I love about you’ books with prompts to be answered. It was opened to a worn-out page that asked about the top five traits of his partner that he loved most.

His laughter.
His kindness.
His intelligence.
His creativity.
His resilience.

And then, written in clumsy handwriting, he wrote more answers that were far too small for him to read from where he stood. Some words were already hard enough to spell out. A liquid must have spilled in some places, which resulted in the ink spreading. Upon further inspection, the spots resembled droplets; that’s how Craig came to the realization that tears were responsible for the blurring.

Craig’s eyes began to water. His fists clenched, and his throat closed up. “Tweek…”

“I always knew you didn’t love me. You thought of me as some— gah— crazy spaz just like everyone else, and now… you’re looking for someone new, right? Is that it?”

Craig was paralyzed, unable to respond. His body and mind were shutting down. How did they get to where they were?

Tweek, with his spastic and unpredictable behavior, was too difficult to understand. It felt like they were kids all over again when they struggled to comprehend how the other worked. They had eventually learned and figured it out together. However, he felt like all of their efforts had collapsed, and they had to start from scratch. Craig didn’t want that, though. He wanted the Tweek he always knew and to fall back into the routine they always had. However, Craig doubted Tweek desired the same. In fact, it felt as if Tweek despised the idea so much that he was willing to enter extraterrestrial territory to hurt him in ways others might think were irredeemable. It probably was, but Craig had a hard time believing it.

Tweek stared at him, waiting for an answer, and Craig desperately wanted to give him one.

On Tweek’s face, tears came rushing down. He wiped them off roughly. “Whatever, man. I should’ve known better than to expect anything from you when you’re so stupid.” At once, Tweek sat up the chair from the floor and continued painting like it was nothing— like they weren’t just fighting. Like he wasn’t hurt in the slightest, and Craig’s entire existence was a burden.

Craig grabbed the little strength he had left to carry on, to push forward, to be a pillar worthy of trust. Tweek’s emotions were akin to the Great Red Spot, powerful and strong. His thoughts likely were the storm that pressured his stability out of existence. But if Craig could be strong enough to handle those emotions, he could help Tweek pull through and guide his voyage back home. Still, he was a stupid queer whose best efforts didn’t stop his voice from coming out so weakly.

“Did I…did I do something wrong? Please, I can fix this. Whatever it is, I can fix it.”

It was a cry for support. Craig was tired of fighting a lonely battle, but he couldn’t voice it out loud. He could handle a lot, but he wasn’t resilient like Tweek. Once he was down, it was hard for him to get back up— especially when he had never endured something so painful.

Craig’s pleas went unanswered. He stood still in his mind, begging for Tweek to turn around just once to look at him. But Tweek never did. Craig could only stick around for so long before he had to admit defeat.

Thus, Craig left the flowers on the nightstand next to Tweek’s bed, sparing one last look at him before he left.

As he walked out of the room, he was faced by Richard. “Leaving so soon, bud?” he said with a smile that made Craig feel all but threatened. Richard and Helen always spoke in calm tones, but there was always a layer of uncanniness that made him feel perturbed.

“Yes, sir,” Craig answered.

“Alright, you be careful out there,” he said. Craig nodded in response. Richard clasped his shoulder, making Craig drop his car keys as Richard walked away. Craig bent down to pick them up and heard Tweek’s door open.

Before he took another step, he heard Richard’s muffled voice from within Tweek’s bedroom. “Alright, Tweekers, it’s time for your ADHD medicine.”

It seemed that Tweek had withdrawn himself so far from their relationship that he didn’t even bother telling Craig he had finally started official ADHD treatment. Perhaps that was why he had been able to focus so well lately. It was such a small detail, but Craig felt hurt. Did Tweek not trust him? Did Tweek really think Craig didn’t love him anymore? Or worse, that Craig never loved him at all? Perhaps that’s why the book was so worn out, stained with tears of heartbreak.

During his walk to his car, he thought of the universe Galileo once spoke of— how its complexity and oddity were what made it perfect. It was ever-changing, riddled with imperfections and dynamic changes, yet so beautiful and complex beyond our understanding.

Craig almost rushed back into the room to tell Tweek he was wrong and that he loved him so much it hurt, but he kept thinking of Tweek’s harsh words and decided against it. He was overwhelmed. His thoughts made him tired. It was best to give Tweek some room to think and maybe room to grow. Eventually, —hopefully— Tweek would come to miss him too.

Chapter Text

Stark’s Pond felt different, more somber. It was empty, cold. Were the woods always so scary?

As he walked to the spot, he paused in front of a familiar tree. Like a flag on the Moon, Craig had engraved the tree with a carving of a heart with a ‘C+T’ in the middle to symbolize their presence. He was only eight when he drew that, and so much time had passed since then; they were no longer children, and the years of play-pretend were left in the past. One second, spaceman Craig and Alien-Boy Tweek were adventuring through the Milky Seas, and the next second, they were deciding what college to attend after high school.

What a journey they’ve had together. Craig still remembered everything about the day he became infatuated with Tweek. They were in third grade, and Craig had been aware of Tweek’s existence in class. Who wouldn’t have been? He was loud and disruptive, shaking like a little chihuahua at all times. Craig was good at ignoring people, but Tweek was hard to drown out, even for him. Even so, Craig only felt mildly annoyed by Tweek.

That was until some kids in the class decided it would be funny to lie to Craig to get him to fight Tweek. Craig, at the time, was a short fuse. It didn’t take much to get him riled up. After some plotting, they got the reaction they wanted from Craig to get him to beat up the poor boy in class. Tweek— who was weak, anxious, and pathetic— equally injured him in a fight unlike anybody else had before. At that moment, Craig realized strength and vulnerability could co-exist. In a way, Tweek was stronger than him. He was outspoken about his fears, regardless of how others perceived him. He wasn’t scared of having weaknesses and was able to communicate when he was unable to accomplish a task. Tweek was everything Craig wasn’t, but he still managed to beat him in a fight.

Craig was amazed and utterly speechless. And devastatingly in love.

But that was so long ago. Doing the math, that was a decade of holding hands with the same person; Craig hoped there were many more years to go. After spending so much time with Tweek, he couldn’t imagine living a day without him. Even after everything, he still envisioned Tweek in his future. Of course he did because whatever they were going through was just a phase.

To his dismay, it was a starless night. The clouds were overtaking the sky; the Moon could hardly compete against them. Yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from above, holding out to hope that he’d at least see one star.

In his mind, all he could think of was how much he loved and missed Tweek.

Craig asked himself when he became uncertain of himself and his ability to maintain steady? Through their relationship, they had fallen into the dynamic where Tweek was the damsel in distress— or the prince in peril— and Craig was the knight in shining armor. He was the strong and logical one, whilst Tweek was the sensitive and irrational one. It wasn’t often that Craig cried and required the emotional support he provided for Tweek, and that’s why they worked so well together.

That’s why Craig knew how to handle Tweek’s anxieties and worries; he was able to ground him from his frivolous stressors. However, Craig worried he was no longer adequate to handle Tweek, that perhaps they weren’t as perfect as they once were. In turn, he feared voicing his concerns would push Tweek further away, or worse, that Tweek would agree and say Craig wasn’t enough anymore.

And that uncertainty made Craig feel like he was so weak. He feared what Tweek would think of him if he admitted his fears. He was scared of losing everything he knew and loved, of losing the comfortable routine they had built for themselves and the future he envisioned for the two of them. He also didn’t want to make Tweek worry for him when Tweek already had enough on his plate. He felt uncomfortable at the prospect of needing comfort over feelings so dumb. He was capable of managing it all on his own. He had to be; he had to put up with his sentiments and solve them all on his own.

After two hours of seeing clouds unwilling to make way for the celestial bodies to peek through, Craig thought it was late enough to go home.

What welcomed him back was Tweek, in his work uniform, sitting on his bed, and staring out the window, looking up at the same sky as he was not too long ago. Despite being in different locations, the habit of searching for answers within the astros remained for both of them. In part, it comforted Craig. They had their difficulties, but a part of them remained connected.

Craig took a deep breath before approaching silently. Craig sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes glued on the forming bruise on Tweek’s cheek— a reminder of his own blunder and ignorance. In his mind, he kept repeating all the efforts he could’ve made to prevent the hit from happening. He never would’ve expected it, but was that enough of an excuse?

He forced himself to look away before his brain unraveled again. All the while Tweek sat in the corner of his bed, body leaning against the wall with his legs pressed against his chest while his arms wrapped around them. He looked solemnly out the window, sitting so close but feeling so far away from Craig.

If Craig could only reach him. If he could only guess, for once, what plagued Tweek’s mind.

Craig couldn’t handle the silence anymore. “Tweek–”

“Look, I got you something,” Tweek said with a small smile as he handed him the present that had been lying by his side. Craig swiftly wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans before hesitantly grasping the box.

Tweek situated himself next to Craig and encouraged him to open it, and so, Craig did; he opened it delicately, treating the wrapper as if it was made from gold. The first thing he saw was a red Lego brand; he furrowed his brows as he unwrapped it with a bit more curiosity. His eyes widened as he unraveled the NASA Apollo 11 Lunar Lander set. He remembered seeing it a while back ago, but it was quite expensive. He promised himself he’d buy it eventually, but he never did.

“I was hoping we could build it together,” Tweek whispered. “Look, it even comes with two astronauts– it’s us…discovering and learning about space together.”

A while back, Craig had learned that everything in life was a battle, and he had the choice to decide what was worth fighting about. When he thought about it, no matter how hurt it was, an argument like that wasn’t worth fighting about. He could be willing to forget Tweek’s manic accusations; after all, it wasn’t something that occurred often.

“I would love that,” Craig answered, his voice cracking against his will. Then, there was silence again. Craig just wasn’t sure what to say— or, well, he didn’t know how to say it.

“I know I’ve been acting weird…” Tweek sighed. He fidgeted with his pants uncomfortably. “Nngg, I don’t know why I’m suddenly so…upset all of the time. I feel lost, and I can’t seem to find myself. I don’t understand, and the confusion scares me.”

Craig grabbed Tweek’s shaking hand, “Tell me more.”

“It’s just—” Tweek shook his head. “Things have changed between my parents and me after that night, sometimes for the best, sometimes for the worst. I can never seem to catch up to their wavelength. These days, we’re all stressed about work, and I think they’re taking it out on me because they don’t know who else to turn to.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I can understand why they do it. I’m so stupid, and I make mistakes, big mistakes, all the time, but I’m trying, I really am. It sounds stupid because I hate working there, but…I love the coffee shop. It sometimes feels safer there than in my house. And my parents are so passionate about it; I’d hate to be the reason they lose it.”

“But if they lose it, doesn’t that mean they weren’t passionate enough to keep it running?”

“But they’ll grow old eventually, and they’ll need someone to run it.”

“They can hire somebody, Tweek, they got the money.”

“They’re scared hiring others would mean losing integrity. They’re scared someone would change their recipe and lose the meaning. They don’t want it to end like Starbucks…”

They fell silent. Craig wanted to deny it just to convince Tweek to not worry so much, but he supposed the fear was valid. Lots of companies forget their origins and become nothing but capitalistic soulless shells of what they used to be. But the Tweak Bros. Coffee shop had nothing to preserve. In fact, at the hands of Tweek, it would be better and livelier. It would actually have a soul— something Craig would say was worth protecting.

But Tweek just didn’t belong there; he belonged to the world.

There were many new sights to see outside of South Park— Tweek would love museums; there were many in Massachusetts, particularly in Cambridge, just across the river from Boston. Craig had taken him to small ones hosted by the community to show off local artists, which were decent. Not grand enough, though, not anything like the Harvard Art Museums Craig wanted to show Tweek.

Craig imagined them settling down in the countryside, still in a small town, somewhere away from the city but close enough to explore on the weekends. They could have a large flower field in the back where they could frolic daily together. South Park didn’t have farms or animal sanctuaries; Tweek had never seen exotic animals besides bears and deer. If Tweek was committed to running a coffee shop, he would never get to see a giraffe, his favorite animal, in person. No, it was unacceptable.

The nightlife wasn’t something Craig imagined either of them would like, but open mics and indie film nights could be something they could enjoy together. Tweek needed to be surrounded by like-minded people and connect with those who understood color and music theory. South Park made Tweek so lonely, he had no real connections, not even to their mutual friends because nobody understood eccentrics. But there were people out there who did, and Tweek needed to meet them.

South Park wasn’t all that bad; Craig liked the sense of community and predictability, and that’s why he thought Denver would’ve been perfect. In part, he still did. It was far away enough to see parts of the world but close enough to take shelter from the adversities of the city. He liked that he never really had to worry about Tweek getting severely hurt while in South Park; everybody knew each other, and danger wasn’t imminent. Denver wasn’t South Park, but it was still familiar; after all, everyone had at least visited the city at least once, being the closest one to South Park and all.

Their friends were going to Denver too. With them there, Tweek and Craig would have a sense of normalcy. It was like taking a small piece of South Park to Denver, and that was really nice.
It wasn’t the right place for them; going to Denver would defeat the purpose of leaving. They would just want to return home.

It wasn’t all about Tweek— Craig had to admit, he also wondered what was out there for him. The things he would learn, what he would see…his career was beyond the city limits of South Park. For Craig, there was no other choice. He couldn’t stay. There was no future waiting for him here.

“What happened that night, Tweek?” Craig suddenly asked. “What changed?”

Tweek frowned. “My parents told me I needed to keep it between us. They said I needed to respect their privacy.”

How could Tweek be so respectful, even when they’re pushing him far beyond his limits?

“Don’t worry, though, it wasn’t all bad,” he smiled, his sadness written all over it. “They’re more understanding of my disorder and are putting more effort into helping me through it.”

Craig felt that wasn’t reassuring enough for him to let it go. He still discerned it was undeniably unfair. There was nothing Craig could do, though; it was hard, but he would just have to trust Tweek was right. “Promise me you’ll come to me when it gets too hard. I can help you with the weight; that’s what I’m here for.”

Tweek turned to him, and for the first time in a while, his smile seemed authentic. “Thanks, Craig.”

Craig didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled him in for a kiss. Craig missed those pairs of lips more than he knew; he missed being where they were, how they were, for too long.

He never wanted to miss it again– to miss him again.

Craig was glad they were able to talk, but a part of him still felt like there was stuff that remained unresolved. His chest still felt heavy from all of the words he left unspoken, the feelings he left unreleased.

Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek and blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes, although some managed to escape. His heart hurt, he felt as if he could physically feel it breaking. Perhaps he should’ve advocated for himself and told Tweek how much his behavior was harming him, but whenever he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He was scared it’d push him away, scared he’d have to accept that Tweek was seriously ill, scared their relationship would come to a bitter end, scared he’d be forced to say goodbye to the routine he’d imagined they’d have forever…at that point, just what wasn’t he scared of?

He gently squeezed Tweek– who was shaking and crying– as he buried his face in his hair. At that moment, he felt that if he squeezed him too hard, he’d vanish into thin air.

At least they were there, in his room, together. Under the familiar planets and star stickers. Yet another conversation– another memory– Craig hoped would last forever.

Craig snuck a look out his window just as a cloud floated away, covering the Moon in its entirety, but his attention wasn’t on it. Through his fear and insecurity, he found hope and comfort.

In the sky, finally, he saw a star.

Chapter Text

Craig and Tweek were at their greatest elongation; they had never been so distant from each other before. After their conversation, Craig assumed they had come to a consensus, and Tweek would continue to open up to him. However, it never happened. The same way planets spin on their axis, their relationship did too—going round and round without any means of stopping.

Every day, the Sun would rise, breathing life with its rays. But the Sun appeared to be dimmer and dimmer as the days went on, and Craig felt so cold. He chased after the familiar warmth, growing desperate for kindness to encourage him to continue fighting. Sometimes, he could feel the gentleness he had fallen in love with. Then, at once, it was ripped away from him.

Craig felt so pathetic.

And so alone.

He was fighting a losing battle, and he couldn’t seem to piece himself together. No amount of boxing could assuage the pressure that built up on his chest. He could try and try to pretend he wasn’t hurting, but it still wouldn’t go away. Craig’s fist clenched around the bouquet of flowers, wondering why he still held onto them. It was useless to keep waiting, to continue trying when Tweek had been consistently ditching every date he planned for the remainder of the month.

It was the first of October. Time slipped right through Craig’s fingers. He probably lost it somewhere at the start of September, when the dawn of his heartbreak was approaching without his acknowledgment. The summer had begun with many stars in the sky; Craig and Tweek shared kisses under them all. Fall was the opposite— it commenced with one star visible to the naked eye, a sign of hope, but even that speck was fading.

He sat on the pavement, his head hung low and eyes closed. He was behind the bowling alley, hoping nobody would go to the back until he got himself together. After everything else he had faced that day, he couldn’t handle somebody seeing him at his lowest.

When he checked his phone, he wasn’t surprised that no response had arrived from Tweek. They both lived in South Park, a couple of blocks from each other; somehow, it was hard to keep up with Tweek and his antics.

Richard and Helen kept him busy on the weekends and weekday nights for a few hours; Tweek wasn’t to blame for that, so Craig couldn’t be mad at him. He only hated how unreachable Tweek had become. And whenever he was close in proximity to Craig, he still appeared to be lightyears away. Tweek was never truly in the moment anymore.

Craig knew he was no longer Tweek’s anchor. He had faltered, though he wasn’t sure when. At what point did Tweek decide he was too weak to rely on?

Craig smashed the flowers on the ground, angry at himself for not doing more. He was throwing himself a pity party rather than chasing Tweek and proving himself worthy. But Tweek had been pushing him cruelly away whenever he got too close— Craig was hesitant to continue trying.

The only time he felt any solace was late at night when Tweek would sneak into his house and cry as they cuddled. He always looked so frail, so broken, in desperate need of company; Craig was more than happy to provide it. Then, in the morning, Tweek would be gone like a shooting star in the sky, leaving Craig behind with nothing but the scent of his coconut shampoo on the pillow and the overwhelming presence of coffee beans.

At school, Tweek would be irritable, easily upset to the point that their friends had noticed the situation was much more complicated than presumed. In the span of a few weeks, Tweek became a shell of himself, no longer approachable. It was akin to watching a star nearing the end of its lifetime— like the star Betelgeuse. And everyone anxiously waited for Tweek to collapse into a black hole; they just didn’t know if it was sooner rather than later.

What would happen then? Craig didn’t know.

Would the amount of energy propel him away, or would his immense gravity pull him forward?

All Craig wanted was to be by his side. He tried to not ask for too much— he would’ve been greedy if he had asked for forever, so he didn’t. Instead, he asked to be a memory for Tweek— one that would last him an eternity. In a way, that would be their forever in the case their time together was limited, which Craig hoped wasn’t the case. For once, Craig believed in something that couldn’t be supported by science— he believed that Tweek was his soulmate. He shouldn’t allow a perturbation to destroy the balance of their system. All couples go through a rough period, right?

The time read 4:30 pm, nearly an hour after their scheduled date. Craig groaned as he stood up, finally accepting that Tweek wouldn’t be making an appearance. Weeks ago, he hadn’t precipitated being in a position where he was calling to cancel reservations he had made a month in advance. Yet, there he was, scrapping the plans he meticulously set to surprise Tweek. Fortunately, he didn’t lose much money. Though at that point, he didn’t care. The pain of being carelessly discarded already took every space in his heart.

Thomas and Laura wouldn’t be expecting him to return home any time soon; Craig didn’t want to face the questions they’d ask if he showed up hours early. He couldn’t fathom confronting Tweek in the fractured state he was in.

Craig found himself in the same place where it all began. The place he knew he could obtain remnants of them whenever he needed to. Only there could he unwind because it was the only place he felt like himself. He was unbounded by reality and all the stress that came with it. Moreover, he had anticipated going later in the day with Tweek regardless. A relaxing end to what could have been an incredible day had Tweek bothered to show up.

In fact, Craig had a few special revelations in place for Tweek, most of which he left behind with the rest of the world and one he took with him up the hills in his hands. It was his very first high-quality telescope— the Apertura AD8 Dobsonian. He had bought it in early August with allowance money. With the current circumstances, he had forgotten about it until Laura dragged in a large mailbox with his name on it. After dwelling in nothingness for what seemed like an eternity, an opportunity to smile presented itself just as Craig began forgetting what excitement felt like.

It was too early to look through the telescope; however, he prepared the equipment regardless. Shortly after, he sat and waited while looking up at the twilight sky. The clouds scattered as if a wide brush had been run across them in pink and orange hues, tainting their usual white amidst their painting. It was the last remaining evidence of the Sun’s bright rays invading their atmosphere before the Moon’s white light would take over, making way for the many stars in the observable universe.

Craig was oddly serene. The anguish from the situation was a lullaby, and his eyes felt so heavy he could fall asleep. The grass beneath him was itchy, and the cold made a cruel blanket. Yet, somehow, sleep managed to capture him and brought him to a place where he was happy. Strangely enough, it wasn’t Stark’s Pond or his house, but in Tweek’s living room, a few days after they began officially dating.

“So, the notes are E-minor, C, then G, and then, your favorite, B-Minor,” Tweek instructed as he looked back at Craig with a teasing smile.

Craig nodded with false confidence as he gripped his dark blue acoustic guitar, a gift from Tweek, who insisted he should pick up a creative hobby. Craig was reluctant at first, but he had to admit he genuinely grew to love playing. The first few weeks were very frustrating; Craig couldn’t figure out rhythms to save his life. Once he moved past that hurdle, it became enjoyable. Every now and then, Tweek would teach him a basic song for them to play together. During those moments, Craig felt the most relaxed.

Craig groaned. “I can hardly play that note. Can’t we play another song? Like, fucking, I don’t know, the ABCs or something?”

Tweek laughed loudly. He shook his head and walked over to Craig before he plopped down next to him on the couch. He sat closely, enough for their thighs to touch, and leaned forward as he took hold of Craig’s left hand. The dichotomy of their personalities was displayed in their hands; Tweek’s were soft and gentle as he guided Craig’s rough, tense hand to the neck of the guitar. He moved his fingers to the correct frets and pressed them lightly there.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered. He lifted his head up and signaled Craig to strum.

When he did, the sound was smooth, the best Craig had played it thus far. Then, Tweek moved his finger to the G position, where he strummed once more. They repeated that motion a couple of times, every repetition involving less of Tweek’s pressure and more of Craig’s. Still, Tweek’s fingers lingered over his, trusting that Craig would find his way around the correct places.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,” Tweek sang softly. The corner of Craig’s lips twitched upwards as he stopped focusing on the pattern, but rather the emotion in which Tweek sang. “And the dreams that you dare to, why, oh, why can’t I?”

As the chorus came to an end, Tweek withdrew his hand away. Craig wanted to pretend he forgot just to keep him close. Yet, Tweek didn’t pull away completely. They didn’t say a word; they remained there, sharing the same space and warmth as the other. They shyly looked into each other’s eyes with faint smiles on their faces. Slowly, their faces inched closer and closer together until Craig could feel Tweek’s shaky breath against his skin; he could practically taste the bitter coffee on his lips.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Tweek’s body vanished, leaving Craig in a state of confusion. Then, he woke up.

Craig’s eyes fluttered awake, allowing the night sky to infiltrate his vision. Within seconds, he heard footsteps close behind him. In his drowsy state, he momentarily forgot where he was. Thus, he sat up frantically to trace the source of the sound. Shortly after, he saw the man of his dreams.

Tweek was as breathtaking as always. He looked different— skinny, frail, tired— still, he was captivating. His green eyes were still unparalleled by anything Craig had seen; his alabaster skin had gone a bit pale from the lack of Sun, but the moonlight continued to compliment it regardless. Even the cosmos knew how to appreciate beauty when they saw it.

Concern churned in Craig’s stomach as he pointed out the features he hadn’t yet acquainted himself with, like the dark circles under Tweek’s eyes, the sunken cheeks, and the mild yellowing of his teeth. They looked so foreign to Craig, who had explored nearly all nooks and crannies in Tweek’s lithe body. He’d love them all— his every crease and edge— if Tweek allowed Craig near enough to caress. Even if they were stress-driven changes, Craig would accept them all until they healed. Although Craig had never seen changes quite as extreme from stress before, not in such a short amount of time. As much as he wanted to help, he learned that attempting to do so would result in Tweek pushing him further away. Thus, he feigned ignorance.

“Tweek, where have you been?” Craig asked.

Tweek’s slight smile was replaced with a scowl. He stopped a few feet ahead of Craig and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Craig with annoyance. Lately, it was the most common way Tweek looked at him, vain of love and affection; that night was no different.

“Ugh, not this again,” Tweek said with an eye roll. “I was busy, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Craig’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. He hesitated for a moment to ask himself if the battle was worth fighting. For the sake of their future, he’d answer no, just like he had every other day prior. However, he couldn’t ignore everything anymore. On October 1st, he had to defend the integrity of their relationship– the one Tweek had been tarnishing recklessly.

Craig pursued the matter assertively. “Why haven’t you called me back? I texted you like 15 times.”

“Gah! Jesus Christ, dude, I said I was busy!” He exclaimed angrily. His gaze turned from irritation to anger in a matter of seconds.

Hints of Craig’s youth were pasted on Tweek’s face once more, and for a moment, Craig felt pity. In frustration, Craig ran his fingers through his black hair when his eyes landed on the tattered flowers he foolishly dragged along with the telescope. Amongst fallen petals and broken stems, three dandelions remained in pristine condition. Craig peculiarly grieved for them.

“Tweek…do you know what day it is?”

Tweek appeared lost in thought for a moment, puzzled as he tried to recall the date. Try as he might, he couldn’t, so he shrugged with indifference. “I don’t know. Tuesday?”

“It’s our anniversary, Tweek,” Craig frowned. There was an apparent crack in his voice as he spoke. He expected to see Tweek’s facial expression soften in resignation. It didn’t. Craig’s words had no impact; he might as well not have said anything at all.

“Shit, sorry, dude.” There was a subtle smirk on Tweek’s face that irritated Craig.

“Five years, Tweek, five years since we finally gave in and admitted that our relationship was real. Five years ago, being boyfriends gained meaning. That day, you stole my first kiss. That day, I became yours, and you became mine.”

Craig smiled fondly as he reminisced of that day. He had gone to sleep with a sheepish grin on his face as he replayed the kiss in his mind over and over again. Unknowingly, Tweek had opened Pandora’s box because, after that, they could only think of kissing each other. Due to the nature of their “confession,” every year on their anniversary, they’d end the day by returning to the same spot they kissed. As soon as the clock struck eight, they’d mimic the flat and awkward kiss they shared while giggling.

They did it four years in a row.

The fifth-year came around, and Tweek had forgotten.

“Missing a year isn’t all bad. I won’t miss next year, I promise.”

It was a disappointing response. Craig felt stupid for expecting anything else. “Tweek—”

“Holy shit, dude, I said I’m sorry!” Tweek shouted.

Craig flinched at the sudden outburst. The blank stare he had earlier had twisted to fury in a blink of an eye. No matter how often it occurred, Craig couldn’t get used to Tweek’s mood swings. They were too sudden to adapt. Moreover, he didn’t want to adapt to Tweek’s behavior because it meant he’d accepted it was Tweek’s new persona. Craig could never do that. It would mean his sweet Tweek would be gone forever, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Ack! I get it, I fucked up. I’m stupid, useless, an idiot, I get it, okay?! I’ve had enough of people saying—gah!— that shit to me. Ack! I’m fucking sick of it!”

Tweek paced in place as he pulled on his hair. Usually, his self-harming tendencies distracted him enough from his overwhelming emotions. However, there was so much hurt trapped inside him that burned his body inside out. Craig could tell Tweek’s outrage peaked; it was begging to escape.

“You’re fucking with my mind, dude,” Tweek grunted as he pointed his index finger at Craig. “You’re doing this on purpose, right? Making me feel guilty so you can sneak attack me?”

He successfully flipped the script, so Craig was the one stumbling over his words. Before he could piece the situation together, Tweek approached him in a rage. Within a second, he grabbed the telescope and threw it against the ground. At once, the telescope fell apart in a similar state as the flowers.

Craig stood there, aghast. His heart raced just as his body began to shake. The voice of Tweek was drowned out by a sharp whistle while he simply stared at the broken telescope, stained green from the grass. He never thought it’d be possible to be this angry at Tweek– his friends, maybe, but Tweek? He had never done anything to upset Craig in such a way before. Impulsive thoughts were running rampant throughout his head. He momentarily regretted allowing Tweek in so closely because now, he had to sit with the pain of hurting, the pain of failure, the pain of seeing your lover lose themselves within an illness he couldn’t stop from experiencing.

He had to admit it— Tweek was ill. Craig had approached the issue intending to dissipate his ailments rather than recognize that the severity of their predicament was more than he could handle. His ego made him ignorant. Consequently, he became fixated on the idea of being Tweek’s savior, and for what? To prove himself worthy?

Guiding Tweek towards professional help would have been valuable— yet another bias that prohibited Craig from making the right choices. But it wasn’t too late. Craig believed he could still salvage their relationship.

“Tweek, please listen to me.” His voice quivered, but at that moment, Craig couldn’t care how fragile it made him sound. “I’m trying to understand you, I’m trying to…”

He cleared his throat, hoping to stop it from closing in on him so he could speak. It was difficult, too difficult. He was crumbling into pieces right in front of Tweek. He couldn’t handle thinking of the impression it would leave on his memory, though perhaps it was what Tweek needed to make him realize how much harm he was doing.

“I want to understand you; it’s hard…but I’m trying. I know you’re not hurting me on purpose. I know you’re…I know you’re also trying. But…”

Craig struggled to find the words to communicate— he always did. He didn’t want to hold back anymore; he had told himself he was willing to change, so why was his mind still fighting against it?

A lone tear fell down Craig’s face, and he hurried to wipe it, trying to be discreet as to at least keep a sliver of his dignity. “Tweek, I think we should seek professional help,” Craig announced at last. The hardest part of his speech was finally out, and the rest began to pour itself from him. “Tweek, you’re not well, and you’re not to blame at all for this, but we can’t keep pretending all of this is fine. Tweek…you’re…you’re hurting me.”

Craig felt relieved to have gotten his feelings out of his chest. Once he got started, he found it hard to stop. He spoke earnestly, confessing his own internal struggles and his desperate need to protect Tweek. He shared his fear of leaving their routine behind, so much so that he was denying the reality of Tweek’s deteriorating mental health. He spoke about his hesitance in communication, how he felt he was to blame for not realizing the problems went beyond stress and anxiety, and how regretful he was about the way he handled it all.

By the time Craig was done, he felt better than he had in a while, knowing he had finally allowed Tweek to see what he hid behind those sturdy walls of his. Tweek was finally aware of how wounded Craig had been all along.

The silence that followed his speech was deafening, but it didn’t last very long.

In the middle of the night, after Craig’s genuine confession of fear, love, and regret came Tweek’s boisterous laughter. He laughed so intensely, that his face turned red, and his eyes squeezed tightly together as he crouched forward. All the while, Craig felt his heart cave in on itself. He repented ever talking, ever caring. He should’ve accepted Tweek’s appearance, even though he was late. That way, he wouldn’t feel terribly humiliated.

Only after an eternity did Tweek stop laughing. He stood up straight and looked up at Craig. Oddly enough, Craig felt as if Tweek was looking straight through him instead. “You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it, seriously Craig, when did you become such a pussy? All of this is ridiculous. Man up, dude.”

The last bit of hope Craig had desperately clung to evaporated. It was blatantly clear that the need for reconciliation was one-sided. The first thing that rushed in were memories of their years together and how they were based on lies. In the same spot they stood, they had whispered countless promises; they swore to stay together regardless of the circumstances. Yet, Tweek cruelly turned his back on Craig the moment challenges presented themselves.

Then, Craig became angry. It was a relief. For a short time, he stopped the ache running deeply in his heart. He detached himself from his surroundings, numbing himself entirely until the conflict was nothing but a sting. In doing so, he stopped himself from entirely falling apart.

Craig’s eyes darkened as he looked at Tweek, someone who appeared to be a stranger to him. Physically, he appeared to be dangerously sick; his lips were cracked and bleeding, his hands painted with scabs and cuts as he twitched and trembled severely. Nevertheless, he was still undeniably Tweek. Beyond that, he was a stranger. He didn’t speak or behave like the Tweek he had known for 10 years.

Tweek— his friend, his lover, his soulmate— wore his heart on his sleeve. Every word he spoke was easily defined by kindness and empathy. He was caring, understanding, and gentle; his body oozed with charisma and charm without needing to try. Sure, he was often scared and drowning in his own sorrow; his gaze carried weight so heavy, his lithe body could only lash out to get rid of it. But that wasn’t what defined Tweek. What defined him was bright and colorful, like spring— like the flowers that lay on the ground alongside his telescope.

Tweek’s fits of laughter finally died down completely. He took deep breaths to regain all the oxygen he had laughed out of his lungs. To Craig, the sharp inhale felt like an insult. What he considered the collapse of his entire world, Tweek thought of it as a joke. It made Craig question whether he ever cared at all. Was the Tweek he grew up with ever real?

Unexpectedly, Tweek reached out to Craig and pressed his lips against his. At that point, Craig recognized that Tweek was a stranger. He immediately shoved him away, tumbling Tweek backward until he tripped over his feet and fell to the floor harshly. As a result, he released a loud yelp of pain. Craig hadn’t intended to push him, let alone with much strength. His body acted out on its own, perceiving Tweek’s lips like those of another.

“Tweek—”

Craig was cut off once more by Tweek’s laughter as he stood. It was at that moment Craig considered walking away. Tweek’s psychosis couldn’t be rationalized. He would achieve nothing by staying, yet his feet maintained firmly on the ground. Tweek’s gravity was much too strong for Craig to leave him behind.

Craig loved him, fuck, he loved him. For better or for worse, he loved him.

When Tweek became cold and tangled, Craig’s thoughts turned to nonsense among the damage Tweek inflicted and the times he left and returned, through thunder and silence, with his every inhale and exhale, Craig loved him. It made the sodium pouring from his eyes down to his lips seep deeply into his soul and it burned his heart over and over; then, over and over, it burned. It burned fiercely and passionately, unrestrained and forcefully, just as their love once did.

The scorching of his being worsened when Craig experienced the most painful punch he felt in his life, not because it was physically excruciating, but because of the person who delivered it. The fact that it was Tweek, out of all people, caused a lingering effect on his face; even the blood in his mouth tasted bitter, like acid. It was starting to kill him slowly.

‘Solar maximum’ was Craig’s last coherent thought.

Tweek’s anger had reached its peak. If his cruel words were powerful solar flares, his punch was his mass ejection, which sent fierce solar winds toward him, disrupting Craig’s shield at once. Storms were created in his brain, disturbing his every thought and function. From the catastrophic event, Craig saw the beautiful auroras in Tweek’s bruised skin. The darkness of the reds, pinks, and purples across his knuckles juxtaposed the paleness of his skin. Those colors didn’t belong on his body unless it was Craig forcing them in place on Tweek’s skin by kissing and suckling. It repulsed Craig– seeing his reflection on Tweek’s fist made him want to vomit.

Tweek gestured to punch him, but Craig shoved him again before he could. Consequently, the swing missed him entirely, landing on Tweek instead. It didn’t pack much force though the impact knocked him down regardless. He took longer to rise from the fall than he did previously. He grunted as he struggled to push himself off the ground.

When he stood on his feet, Craig’s eyes noticed the red iron pouring from Tweek’s nose. Craig had seen blood plenty of times; he’d seen many rising from the position Tweek was in. Be that as it may, Craig was nauseated. Bile rose up from his stomach, but he forced it down. As hurt as he was because of Tweek, he never meant to injure him. Blood drained from Craig’s extremities; his nails had gone purple from the cocktail that was anxiety and adrenaline.

“Tweek, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Craig hurried towards Tweek and grasped his shoulders, worried he had seriously injured him. He placed a hand on Tweek’s chin, realigning his sight so he could closely inspect the wound inflicted. It didn’t appear to be broken, which was a relief, but it was all the same to Craig. He caused the hurt— Tweek was bleeding because of him.

Tweek shrugged his arms off his shoulders and spat blood. He appeared unfazed as he looked at Craig right in the eye.

“You fight like a fucking queer.”

There it was— the event horizon. They had crossed the boundary of spacetime where gravity was too overpowering that not even light could escape its grasp. That’s when Craig finally accepted that from that point onwards, what was could never be again. Everything they worked hard for, everything they built up, collapsed at once.

It was over.

It was all…really over.

Chapter Text

The darkness was overwhelming; it felt darker than usual– it was loud, lonely, and cold.

Craig’s room was as is; nothing out of place. He lay the way he always did– facing his window, counting the many stars in the sky until his brain couldn’t capture them anymore. Except his phone remained barren of life because there was no ongoing late-night call. The AC buzzing, the stable clock ticking, and the occasional owl hooting were the only sounds Craig could hear.

It was lonely.

Craig’s eyelids were heavy; he was so tired. He wasn’t sure why because all he had done was clean his PC, which took more effort than usual. He couldn’t muster the motivation to do much else. Therefore, Craig lounged around and waited for time to pass, internalizing all his fears, worries, and frustrations as if they didn’t exist. Craig’s pillow and the celestial bodies in the sky were all the company he kept. He wanted the stars to engulf him, to take him far away from his sorrowful reality.

The night was so lonely– he was so lonely.

It was hard to explain the pain in his chest. It was silent, but it was taking over him like a parasite that slowly sucked the life from him. Craig tried not to think about it– he preferred to pretend it didn’t exist. It was unavoidable, though. Simply existing within his room hurt.

He wasn’t sure why he would rather be in his living room. In part, it was because of Tweek. Craig couldn’t stand Tweek’s existence hovering above him like a puppet master. His room no longer belonged to him— it was a prison. Tweek was etched in the very walls— paintings and crafts of his filled empty corners, yet another reminder of the distance between them. It was agony.

At the same time, his room was a reminder of the life they had built together, the one he couldn’t seem to part ways with. It was comfortable— the quiet buzzing of the AC, the clock ticking, the owl hooting. It was familiar, nice, and comforting. But when the warmth of love ceased to exist in that equation, it was a cacophony of anger and sadness.

In the living room, the sense of Tweek diminished. Craig didn’t have to think about the implications of their relationship; it was easy to forget the hurt and anguish he was going through. The lack of Tweek’s presence wasn’t staggering; it was easier for Craig to sleep when he separated from his reality. However, he couldn’t sleep in the living room lest he wanted his family to get suspicious of his grievances with Tweek. They thought his absence was due to his busy work schedule– that’s all they needed to know.

Craig wasn’t exactly sure when or how he made it to his room. He only knew he had given up on the prospect of sleeping and settled on doing homework instead. He had lost his sense of self for a while, but the chemical formulas were beginning to look like a foreign language from how long he had been solving them. Even so, Craig found it hard to stop; it was the only way he had kept afloat after everything that went down. It was a distraction, a way to escape the pain of the heartbreak he was feeling. He had exhausted his methods; even his body was tired and longed to rest after running off pure adrenaline for weeks at a time.

Besides, it was clear to see Tweek no longer wanted him. Even if Craig wanted to stay, Tweek wouldn’t let him.

Craig felt like a rogue planet. Without his source of life, he wandered mindlessly without a destination in sight, whilst Tweek was most likely somewhere out there, still laughing and mocking him. Craig thought Tweek would have been a constant in his life. In no shape or form did Craig predict such a drastic change of personality. How was it possible that after all their years together, they had crumbled into fractures? They were meteors, burning fiercely and rapidly, coming apart under Earth’s atmosphere.

Perhaps everyone was right when they said first loves never last. Growing up and apart was the beauty of life; even a town as stagnant as South Park was bound to change eventually. It was only natural for Craig to lose his routine and predictability— it was inevitable.

But was their breakup inevitable?

Craig wondered if he would ever come to terms with their relationship meeting a bitter end. So far, he felt like he couldn’t, like he had to keep fighting. But he knew he had exhausted his efforts.

His phone had been going off for quite some time. Finally, Craig garnered up the strength to check who was bothering him so much.

It was Tweek.

His messages were hardly legible, but Craig understood the meaning behind his rambling— he was anxious, alone, and scared. It was one of those nights Tweek was probably seeking his nightly comfort. It broke Craig to not be at his beck and call when that was all he had been doing for weeks. If Craig continued to read, he knew he’d eventually falter and give in, forcing him back to their toxic cycle. It was time for him to prioritize himself over Tweek.

He did the only thing he knew would stop him from reading the spam messages and calls. Craig clicked on Tweek’s contact information and blocked him. Shortly after, he shoved his phone in a drawer and closed it. It didn’t take long for Craig to feel guilty for ignoring Tweek. He reached for his phone again, but the knock on his door interrupted him.

After being permitted to enter, Thomas opened the door. “Your mother ordered pizza; come eat.”

“Later,” Craig replied. Thomas didn’t bother to argue against it; he nodded and closed the door. A split second later, it opened again. When Thomas said nothing, Craig turned on his desk chair to face him.

“You’re not alone,” Thomas said.

It was a simple statement, but Craig felt surprised to hear it come from Thomas, of all people. Similar to Craig, Thomas was very reserved and awkward when it came to showing affection, but it was genuine whenever he did show it.

After his initial shock, Craig offered a faint smile. “I know.”

Thomas returned his smile before closing the door right behind him.

Craig turned back to his homework; he had worked on assignments that weren’t due in days; he had a couple of problems to go before he finished. But his room felt increasingly empty and lonely as he lingered within; the pain was beginning to sink itself back in, and he couldn’t tolerate it anymore. Having company appeased him. He never thought he’d see the day he desperately needed it and actively sought it. Then again, he never thought he’d see the day Tweek would force them to break up.

Break up…

Without further thought, Craig closed his binder and left his room.

Craig slowly paced down the stairs and saw his family sitting on the couch. Two pizza boxes were on the coffee table, newly opened. Among them was another box, a game— Monopoly. He paused in his place, unsure whether he could handle so much social interaction in the state he was in, but before he could make up his mind, Tricia spotted him.

“Come here, nerd,” she grinned. “Are you ready to fall into debt?” Once again, Tricia didn’t pry into his problems; she continued to behave as she would any other day. It was comforting to Craig, who was craving a sense of normalcy.

He could try a game or two; math and strategy seemed to be taking his mind far away from Earth.

Craig snickered, “This game requires math. Do you even know the quadratic formula?”

Tricia mocked him in a high-pitched voice. “Who cares? You’re gonna lose to a girl who doesn’t know her times table, and you just can’t take the humiliation, admit it.”

Craig rolled his eyes before approaching them and joining their game night. They sat on the floor and set the game.

As determined as Craig was to beat Tricia in Monopoly, he only managed to pass twice before he felt himself dozing off. He wasn’t even in a comfortable position; he was sitting up with his back against the couch, but as soon as Craig felt himself a bit relaxed, his body collapsed from exhaustion.

Craig was awoken a while later by Laura. He wasn’t aware how much time had passed, but the TV had credits rolling, and Thomas was carrying his sleeping sister to her bedroom. Based on that, he concluded it was two hours later, give or take. He didn’t even complain; all he did was mutter goodnight before carrying his sluggish body to his bed. He flopped on it, fully intending to fall back asleep.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, little pebbles hitting his window glass awoke him.

Craig froze, and his heart began to race. He didn’t have to peek outside the window to know who the perpetrator was. He wanted nothing more than to open the window and welcome him in, but he didn’t, or more like he couldn’t. His body betrayed his aching heart that longed to embrace Tweek and never let him go. Despite his mind and heart screaming to let him in, his body remembered the trauma of Tweek’s attacks.

Thus, he remained stiff until the pebbles finally stopped. After a few seconds, Craig glimpsed out his window just in time to see Tweek walking away. He was stumbling slightly in his steps— similar to the way Craig had just minutes ago when he forced himself to bed. His every movement was unsteady and sluggish, like a zombie.

Tweek was probably exhausted; his clothes indicated he had left the coffee shop and walked to the only place he had felt safe but was denied shelter.

Craig hated everything about it.

Why couldn’t Tweek just hate him unconditionally if he wanted to? Why find solace in Craig when he was going to treat him poorly the next day?

It made it so much harder for Craig to turn him away, especially when he knew nothing was waiting for Tweek when he arrived at his house.

Craig took one of the pillows from his bed; the sheets no longer carried a hint of his scent, only the smell of detergent. Even so, he hugged it tightly, imagining he was hugging Tweek instead. He tried to remember the feel of his soft skin, the warmth of his body, the taste of his lips…

He wanted to cry. He hadn’t thus far, but he didn’t know why. He was alone; he had nobody to judge him, but he still held the tears in. Probably because he felt if he did, he’d be admitting defeat, which would mean it was all truly over, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

When Tweek finally was out of his sight, Craig released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Then, he looked up at the starry night and prayed for a star to guide Tweek home.

Chapter Text

The next time Craig returned to his pitiful reality was by a phone call early in the morning. He groggily pulled his phone out of the drawer he had left it in, brain still half asleep, and picked up the call after he saw the caller ID.

“I’m not going to school today, Tolkien,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. Due to his situation, his parents allowed him to stay at home for the day so he could get some well-needed rest.

“Oh, then, I guess you know about Tweek already,” Tolkien responded; he sounded relieved. At the mention of Tweek, Craig’s heart began racing. The harsh memories of the night before sunk in when all he wanted to do was pretend it never happened.

Craig knew he shouldn’t ask. He closed the door to their relationship, which meant he resigned his right to know everything related to Tweek. If he continued to involve himself in his problems, he’d have a harder time escaping the pattern that soured their relationship. Still, he was allowed to care as a friend… right?

That’s the validation Craig granted himself to ask. “What about Tweek?”

“You’re not with him?”

Momentarily, Craig pondered over revealing the truth to Tolkien. On the one hand, he would certainly help Craig from faltering back to Tweek. On the other hand, it was too soon to say out loud. He hadn’t yet accepted their relationship was truly over, as foolish as it may sound. Moreover, Tolkien was also Tweek’s friend. He deserved to choose when and how they should let Tolkien, along with Clyde and Jimmy, know what happened between them.

Plus, Craig hadn’t officially broken up with Tweek yet, so he should probably let him know before anyone else…

“I just woke up.”

“Oh, damn,” Tolkien mumbled. “Well, I suggest you go check up on him. On the way to school, I saw Tweek passed out on the floor at the playground, dude. It’s literally 65 degrees, and he didn’t even have a shirt on.”

‘Did Tweek never make it home…?’ Craig thought as he sat up on his bed. Just as guilt kicked in, the events of the night before played through his head. The memory of the ruined flowers, the broken telescope, the darkening bruise Tweek had left on his face…

“You punch like a fucking queer.”

Craig clenched his jaw, “That’s not my problem anymore.” Before they questioned him about the matter, he hung up the call.

He flopped back onto his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep. He twisted and turned for 15 minutes with insistent anxiety and concern gnawing at his heart. He wondered what led Tweek to the playground, why he was shirtless, and what kept him from returning home. He groaned and grabbed his phone to return Tolkien’s call.

To his surprise, it was Clyde who answered the call in Tolkien’s stead. “Dude, what the fuck? What do you mean it’s not your problem anymore?”

“Uh-oh, t-trouble in p-paradise?” Craig heard Jimmy faintly say in the background.

Craig groaned as he rubbed his face with his hand. He disregarded the question entirely. “Do you know if Tweek’s okay?”

“Answer my question first.”

Tolkien sighed. “Dude, not now,” he scolded Clyde. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him; maybe it’s the flu because of the weather. We told his parents, but you know how they are.”

“‘Oh dear, he must’ve forgotten his coffee and passed out,’” Clyde said, mimicking Helen’s voice. “‘He’s always like this when he doesn’t drink his blend of coffee.’”

“I would’ve stayed with him if it weren’t for my parents. They’d kill me if I missed a day of school.”

“Don’t worry about it; he’ll be fine,” Craig said, his voice as monotone as always. “I’m hanging up now.”

Despite craving more sleep, he took a deep breath before he forced himself out of bed. He told himself he’d only take a peek at Tweek to calm his frantic mind and go straight home. Otherwise, he’d go crazy from thinking of Tweek. It was purely for selfish reasons, so he could rest assuredly— at least that’s what Craig believed as he slipped into a grey hoodie and black sweatpants. He trotted downstairs, where he could hear his family eating breakfast in the kitchen. He contemplated joining but decided to bypass the meal and eat when he returned.

Laura must’ve heard him open the door because she called out to Craig and jogged her way towards him. She had concern on her face. Craig hadn’t told her the entire situation with Tweek, but she knew their relationship had been tumultuous and fractured without Craig needing to explain. After all, who else would have Craig so worked up if not Tweek?

Laura opened her mouth to speak, though no words came out. She promptly closed it and smiled softly. “You forgot your chullo hat here last night,” she said as she retrieved it from the coffee table. Then, she snugly placed it atop his head. “There. Perfect.”

Craig smiled gently, “Thanks, Mom.” He noted the way she paused conflictingly, as though she wanted to say something but held back. Her shoulders deflated as she sighed. “I just want to see if he’s okay.”

She nodded, “I know, hon. Just take care, okay?”

“I’ll be back in five,” he said with a nod. Shortly after, he rushed out the door and hurried to Tweek’s house.

Richard and Helen greeted him at the door with their typical calm voices and smiles as he made his way into the house. Despite not seeing any notable changes, Craig found it to be different— empty and quieter than usual. It was strange and uncomfortable for Craig, who foolishly expected Tweek to run down the stairs and jump in his arms into an embrace. All he received was silence instead.

“Tweek’s a little under the weather,” Helen said. Craig nodded; it was the exact response he expected from her. “He’ll be fine by this afternoon.”

“He has to be,” Richard said with a chuckle. “Coffees don’t brew themselves!”

Both Helen and Richard laughed while Craig forced himself to smile at their comments. Their indifference was bothersome, although not unheard of. In actuality, it would’ve been odd if they decided to care about Tweek’s ailments for once rather than undermine them. Unfortunately, that was the kind of behavior Craig was used to from them.

After being given clearance by Richard, Craig began making his way to Tweek’s room. The sense of familiarity Craig had whenever he visited the Tweak household wasn’t present at the moment he walked through the living room and up the stairs. He felt foreign, out of place, inside the house that previously was a second home to him.

Craig’s stomach churned as he stood in front of Tweek’s room. He wiped his sweaty palms against his sweatpants before he turned the doorknob and allowed himself in.

Craig had expected to see Tweek peacefully cuddled in his bed, sleeping cutely with a stuffy nose and a weak cough. That’s what he regularly looked like when sick— adorable, even when blowing his nose aggressively. His nose would get bright red, and his eyes would swell as he whined and clung onto Craig like a child. He’d pretend to be annoyed, but he loved how clingy Tweek got when he was sick. ‘Tweek the Red-Nosed Reindeer,’ Craig would call him as Tweek pouted with snot going down his nose.

He was wrong to expect the ordinary— terribly wrong.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw Tweek lying in bed, face red and drenched in sweat, equally dampening his hair, which consequently stuck to his face. His breaths were shallow, and he wheezed with every inhale. Craig’s brow furrowed as he approached the bed.

“Tweek?” He called out softly.

Tweek responded with a weak moan. His eyes opened briefly, unfocused and wavering, before they shuttered close again. Craig sat at the edge of the bed and placed his palm on Tweek’s forehead. He was shocked by the intensity of the heat radiating off Tweek’s skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled.

The sound of his voice encouraged Tweek to open his eyes once more. Except for that time, he was able to maintain them open, albeit with much struggle. His green eyes were glazed, his pupils fully dilated. Tweek whined in pain, but he forced a smile when he saw Craig. At once, whatever anger Craig had left from the night before vanished.

Craig stroked his damp cheek with a reassuring smile, an attempt to calm the anxiety he knew Tweek was enduring. In actuality, concern had frozen his body rigidly. Ultimately, a few months of endless bickering and unpredictable behavior couldn’t replace the amount of love and care Craig felt for him, and seeing Tweek attempt to smile through the pain was a sign that Tweek still felt some love towards Craig, too.

“Have you eaten? Drank water? Taken medication?” Craig asked but received silence as a response. Tweek’s eyes slowly shifted towards the corner of his room, prompting Craig to turn around, but he saw nothing there.

“Spaceman Craig…” Tweek croaked as he limply reached out towards the empty corner. Craig thought the fever must have been making Tweek delirious if he was imagining a silly character he used to pretend to be when he was a child.

Craig took the opportunity to allow his eyes to wander around the room.

Unlike Craig’s neat room, Tweek’s room was typically unorganized. Oftentimes, there would be Lego sculptures on the floor— some finished, some were not— while by his piano, he’d have sheet music scattered all around, and his desk would have a bunch of empty coffee cups impressively stacked into some form of a castle. It was chaos. However, Craig knew it wasn’t a dirty room but rather a sign of Tweek’s unruly creativity.

Tweek was artistic; he loved building sculptures and figurines, baking, and reading plays. That creativity manifested in disarray and mayhem. Still, everything in his room had a purpose. Tweek knew where everything was, and eventually, Craig learned to navigate through the room as well.

Yet, his room wasn’t reflecting the beautiful landscape of artistry it once used to. It was a genuine mess. The stacked coffee cups were tossed all over, along with clothes and empty snack wrappers. There were no new sculptures or figurines, albeit there continued to be sheets of music laid on the floor, completely scribbled until the music staffs were practically illegible. Craig was saddened. The room emphasized how much they had drifted apart, and the fact that Tweek hadn’t been engaging in the hobbies he used to love reminded him why the separation occurred.

“Chest…hurts…” Tweek wept. Craig turned his sight back to Tweek, who could hardly formulate a sentence. “It’s hot.”

It was very clear that Richard and Helen had no intentions of taking care of Tweek. Thus, Craig decided it would be best if he stayed beside him until Tweek was able to stand and take care of himself. He had to let Laura know, though he wanted to get Tweek comfortable before he did anything else. The first thing he chose to do was change his clothes. He recognized the sweaty shirt to be Tolkien’s purple polyester shirt, possibly given to him to shield him from the cold. Craig could tell by the roughness of the fabric that Tweek hated it.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes first,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

Craig jogged to the bathroom and returned with a damp, cold towel. He sat Tweek up and slid the shirt off him, trying to be as gentle as possible so as not to hurt him. He shushed him lovingly when Tweek whimpered as a complaint. Once the shirt was off, he lay him back down and retrieved the towel he had placed on the nightstand. Craig began to dab it against Tweek’s sticky, pale skin, moving from his face down his neck to his chest. Tweek seemed to appreciate the sensation of the cold rag against his hot skin based on his sigh, while Craig appreciated the close proximity between them.

He winced as he ran the cloth down his abdomen. Tweek’s ribs were protruding to a concerning extent. He had a few bruises in different healing stages scattered across his torso, mostly along his prominent rib cage. Craig couldn’t stop his fingers from hovering above them, as if he could make them disappear with the pad of his hands. He wanted to ask Tweek; Craig felt uneasy about the idea of Richard being responsible for his wounds, and he needed to hear Tweek say it wasn’t so.

The thought alone was enough to anger Craig. Therefore, he focused on calming Tweek’s fever, trying his hardest to ignore the pesky, bitter sentiments of his failures. At least he was helping him now when he couldn’t before. It was a privilege.

Others most likely thought Tweek was a burden to him. However, it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Not just anybody would be allowed to see Tweek in his most vulnerable state. Nobody else would be allowed to strip Tweek off his clothes to cool down his scorching body; Craig was the only one who could. He was the only one who could memorize Tweek’s hiccups when he cried and his breathing when he slept. Craig was entrusted with his supple skin, determined mind, and kind soul to the extent that Tweek allowed him to see the best and worst of him. It was intimate, it was trust, it was love.

Craig continued his journey up Tweek’s torso, with the destination being Tweek’s left shoulder. As he reached his left inner elbow, he froze. If the bruising around his ribcage wasn’t bad enough, the disturbing sight he saw there was worse. It sent Craig stumbling out of bed with a broken gasp. There were bruises, scars, and dark veins, along with cracked skin in multiple spots.

He had difficulty breathing, leading him to pant instead. “Tweek, what… What is this? What…?” He was unable to finish his sentence as he felt acid rise from his stomach to his throat. It left a burning sensation similar to the one in his heart. His hands were shaking, and he felt lightheaded. Craig wasn’t exactly sure what he felt, but fuck, it was unpleasant. It was as if his whole world was collapsing.

At that point, Tweek was in between consciousness and unconsciousness; he was hardly responsive. He seldom blinked; opening his eyes became an increasingly hard task. Whenever he successfully opened them, they rolled to the back of his head.

“Dad…medicine…” Tweek slurred. His muscles twitched with every shallow breath he took. He groaned, weakly shaking his head without reason.

Craig furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What? What medicine—?” He cut himself off before he could finish. In his mind, he heard Richard’s voice.

“Alright, Tweekers, it’s time for your ADHD medicine.”

He shook his head violently, “No, no…this…”

Craig’s eyes opened wide while his chest got unbearingly tight. He took off his chullo hat and ran his fingers through his hair. He tried to calm himself down to think rationally, but he could hardly keep himself together. “Tweek, those are track marks, fuck, like-like the ones…back in middle school in that stupid Drugs and Alcohol Awareness Week assembly. They showed us that, fuck, dude.”

Craig fumbled for his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it from how shaky and sweaty his palms were. His fingers were quick to dial 911. As soon as the call went through, Craig turned into a rambling mess.

“Sir, sir, please calm down,” she said. “You need to remain calm; help is on its way. Can you tell me what the emergency is?”

Craig wasn’t sure if his answer was cohesive. He took deep breaths as he explained everything he knew— Tweek’s behavior, the track marks, and Richard’s involvement. He tried to be as detailed as possible, but his memory was failing him. Somehow, the dispatcher understood Craig’s borderline incoherent rant.

“I want you to stay in the line with me until they get there, okay?” Craig nodded, forgetting that she’d be unable to see him. “Don’t let him lose consciousness, okay? Try to talk to him calmly.”

“Okay…okay…”

Before Craig could get a word out, Tweek’s body began to convulse violently. His muscles tensed up as his body jerked uncontrollably. It took Craig a few seconds to register what was happening.

“Fuck! Fuck, he’s… I think he’s having a seizure.”

The voice of the dispatcher faded out as Craig fell to his knees beside Tweek’s bed. He pathetically called out his name in a desperate effort to soothe or calm him. He didn’t know what else to do or say; he felt utterly useless. When foam formed on Tweek’s mouth, Craig choked down a cry. Through his tears, he continued to call out for Tweek, secretly begging to hear his own name called back.

The seizure itself lasted a minute, albeit it felt much longer for Craig. He lived through an entire lifetime of suffering within that time frame. Tweek’s body fell limply against the bed; Craig was relieved to see him still breathing, though it was raggedly. He waited another eternity in case another seizure occurred. After a while, Craig gathered Tweek in his arms until he was situated on his lap, noting how he was significantly lighter than the last time he held him. He cradled Tweek against his body, hugging him tightly as he cried. Slow, hot air left Tweek’s scalding body, tickling Craig’s neck in their wake. Those tickles were the only sign of life from Tweek— Craig hoped they never stopped.

He pulled away slightly and gazed into Tweek’s half-lidded, unfocused eyes. Tears flowed endlessly down Craig’s cheeks while he soothingly brushed away the blond strands of hair stuck to his forehead. He gently rocked them back and forth. “You’ll be okay,” he cooed with a sniffle. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Craig leaned down and pressed a kiss on his dried lips. He lingered for a moment before he parted. Once he did, green eyes that once gazed at him with warmth were closed. A loud, guttural sob escaped Craig’s chest after being unable to hold it any longer. His grip on Tweek tightened as he pulled him in closer.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeatedly said.

Craig should have allowed him in last night; he should have provided the shelter Tweek had longed for. He shouldn’t have walked away and left him alone in Stark’s Pond. He should’ve spoken up more. He should’ve intervened sooner. How could he have been so heartless?

Sirens were ringing in the distance; Craig felt slight relief that help was nearby. As he waited, he didn’t dare to part his eyes away from Tweek, fearing that if he did for even a second, he’d die. Even when the paramedics knocked at the front door and rushed up the stairs, he kept his sight fixated on Tweek. In those seconds, Craig attempted to memorize all the details of his face; his long lashes, the minute curvature of the bow of his lips, the gentle shape of his jaw, and the stars— the galaxies— he had in the form of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He wanted to trace the constellations formed by the clusters of beauty marks and tattoo them across his heart so he could never forget their pattern.

He absorbed as much of Tweek as he could in those last few moments together in case he wouldn’t be able to see them again. Craig kept his eyes glued to Tweek, even when the paramedics removed his lifeless body from Craig’s arms, even when they exited the room with Tweek on the stretcher.

Craig’s eyes remained on Tweek even when the ambulance door closed while the paramedic performed CPR on his body.

And in his mind, Craig begged; he begged for Tweek to not give in, to fight— to not go gentle into that good night.

Chapter Text

A sweet, soothing lullaby had engulfed him in a warm embrace; it called him home. His mind disconnected from his body, and the idea of Earth felt like a distant dream in his memory. He didn’t understand what was happening; just a second ago, his body had been on fire, scorching and melting his insides until he couldn’t breathe. There was also fear, so much fear rapidly overriding his mind. Then, it was replaced by the feeling of nothingness when he couldn’t keep on fighting. He surrendered to his anguish and gave it all up for tranquility. He didn’t know why he was suffering, but despite his confusion, he knew he was dying.

The realization all but terrified Tweek, who could only see the blur of his beautiful boyfriend sobbing inconsolably. In the 10 years they knew each other, Tweek had never seen Craig’s face flushed red with snot and tears pouring down like acrylic paint on an empty canvas. Even so, he was perfectly reminiscent of the Atlas statue— strong and powerful.

Tweek felt the most destroyed version of Craig was infinitely more beautiful than the best version of himself. But Craig always disagreed; consequently, he was crying with a dying boy in his arms.

Craig should’ve left him behind. Tweek felt guilty for all the trouble he caused him. It was too late to say his apologies— he couldn’t open his mouth to say a word while Craig did nothing but apologize, like he did everything wrong. Yet, Tweek’s mosaic of his life displayed all of his happy memories, and most of them were with Craig. There was no surprise about that. Tweek’s relationship with his parents was abstract, to say the least, frustrating, and somehow lonely. His friends were great, but Tweek often felt scared they’d hate him if he showed them who he truthfully was. Needless to say, the only rhythm and stability in Tweek’s chaotic life was Craig.

As Tweek’s grip on reality slipped, he felt serene. Craig was there with him. And if they were there together, how could anything be wrong?

The minutes felt like they stretched for eternity. At that point, Tweek’s mind visualized him far away from where he lay, running through a field of daffodils. He laughed freely and unapologetically without an ounce of shame or regret for doing so. Where he was, he needn’t be afraid anymore.

Birds flew across the landscape, and he paused his frolic to hear their harmonious choir. Seemingly, dusk was quickly approaching; the birds were all returning to their nests, and so too shall Tweek.

But where could he go to rest? He was alone.

The surroundings were simultaneous to Stark’s Pond, Tweek realized. He didn’t consciously move; naturally, his feet knew where to go. As he approached his safe haven, someone was already there. No words were shared; Tweek quickly wrapped his arms around the person’s waist and pressed himself against his back. They shared a moment of silence before the person turned around, and their lips joined in for a kiss. Their lips danced together in perfect sync, years of practice aiding to their waltz, all while Tweek pulled the other close whenever he felt him drifting away.

But no amount of tugging could make Craig stay, and their ballad decrescendo into its untimely finale.

When Tweek’s eyes fluttered open, green pastures met with blue skies— it nearly made him want to continue his fight. Beautiful droplets of rain dropped down from above, but they never touched the grasslands. Craig’s lips quivered, his breathing was harsh, and that time, it was Craig who tried to haul him close. The distance was inevitable, however, as they were both standing in different realms, and neither was able to merge into the other’s.

Tweek and Craig’s time together was limited— they knew that. Thus, they gazed at each other for the last time with the hope their promised forevermore would eventually reunite them.

The perfect reunion was too far away; the pain of waiting painted Tweek’s heart with sorrow. The only way they could be together again was through their shared memories— back to their childhood…back to the very start…

Thinking about the years he spent without Craig was saddening. Thus, Tweek seldom lingered on how he used to be. As a kid, Tweek spent a lot of his time enduring his own company. All of his classmates laughed at him and called him names; they avoided, shunned, and isolated him. Tweek got used to the cruelty and even began to understand why they hated him. No one else in school had tics or crippling anxiety like he did; no one else thought of death as often or felt as if eyes were always watching them. It was weird and annoying; Tweek would stay away from himself, too, if he could.

The harsh reality of his personality didn’t stop at school either; it continued at home. Richard and Helen told Tweek his ADHD was what made him so spastic, and his unique coffee blend would fix him. Yet, no matter how much he drank and drank, it never went away. Maybe one day it would, though, so he kept drinking it until he just didn’t know how to stop. His desperation was blinding; he didn’t even notice his symptoms worsening.

Tweek accepted that he had just always been that way.

Tweek remembered the day he thought he had finally made friends. Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were the first kids who were decent, and Tweek clung to the idea that he’d never feel lonely again. Sure, they would call him names from time to time, but so did his parents. That was simply how things were for Tweek. At least with his new friends, he had someone to talk to.

Then came the day Stan and Kyle approached him and said somebody in their class wanted to fight him. Tweek was terrified when Stan pointed at Craig, who was the oldest and tallest boy in their class, and also the most intimidating. Tweek was just as scared of him as he was of everyone, but Craig had quite the reputation of being a troublemaker, while Tweek had never once fought a person before. In his fear, Stan and Kyle said: he needed to defend himself; they had even signed him up for boxing in case Craig approached him. And, well, Tweek never believed himself to be someone worth guarding, but for once, he did.

As cowardly as Tweek was, when pushed into a corner, he fought bravely. It was an unexpected quality that caught everyone off-guard, even Craig, who stared at him with wide eyes as he held onto his bloody nose. During their fight, Tweek still thought Craig to be as cute as always. It was such a shame their proper meeting involved fists.

The day ended with both of them at the hospital sharing a room. It was awkward, and Tweek feared that Craig would secretly kill him in his sleep. After a few hours of unbearable silence, it was Craig who uncharacteristically spoke first.

“Listen, dude, I fight a lot, but I don’t do this whole hating thing, so I suggest you let you of whatever grudge you have against me,” Craig said in a low voice.

“Agh! Me?! You started it!” Tweek screeched as he tugged on his hair. Craig raised a brow at the behavior, although he didn’t question it.

“Me? Dude, I didn’t even know you were in our shop class until Cartman told me the shit you were saying,” Craig spat angrily. “If I had problems with you, trust me, you would know.”

“Why?! What did I do?!” Tweek cried out. Craig froze for a moment; his anger was forgotten for a single second before his brows furrowed again.

“You said something about me eating shit and spreading stupid rumors about Stripe.”

“Stripe?” Tweek questioned. “I don’t know any stripes!!!”

A minute flinch made its way out of Craig’s body as a result of Tweek’s sudden scream. Tweek’s neck began to twitch sideways; he was confused and panicked about the whole situation. He hated every single second of it.

“Fucking Cartman,” Craig gritted through his teeth. “That stupid fat tub of lard and the other idiots tricked us.”

“Gah! What a jerk!” Tweek yelled as he fidgeted with his hospital gown. “But why? Nng, why involve me? I’m their friend!”

“Yeah, right! They don’t talk about you like they are,” Craig laughed. The response was silent. After a moment, Craig looked at Tweek, who frowned as he looked down at his lap. Craig shifted uncomfortably; he had never seen Tweek so still and silent before. “You okay, dude?”

“They were my only friends…” Tweek began to cry softly. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort himself with a hug.

“Tweek, it is better to make friends with a dead dog than with any of those losers.” The response given by Craig made Tweek more upset. Craig shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “Sit at my lunch table at school on Monday.”

Tweek’s head snapped up. Tweek saw an expression he never knew was possible on Craig— a look of concern, maybe pity. Tweek felt hopeful, albeit still uncertain. He should’ve known better than to associate himself with the likes of Stan and his group, but Craig wasn’t much better. Unknowingly, he began to gnaw at his bottom lip as he scratched at his arms, coloring them in red scratch marks.

From the corner of his eye, Tweek noticed Craig stand up from his hospital bed and make his way towards him. In a panic, Tweek shouted and begged to be spared as he shielded himself from Craig. He closed his eyes tightly, expecting impact, but it never came. Tweek opened one eye and saw Craig merely standing there. Hesitantly, Tweek sat up again.

“Sorry…”

Craig shook his head before he sat down atop Tweek’s bed. “I’ll introduce you to my friends during lunchtime.”

“Agh! No way, dude! That is way too much pressure!” Tweek exclaimed. “What if they hate me and tie me to a flagpole? What if they feed me to the gnomes? Ack! No! I can’t take it!”

Craig laughed. It caught both of them off guard as they both froze at the unusual sound of Craig’s laughter. He cleared his throat in a pathetic attempt to hide his display of amusement. “You’re actually pretty cool, Tweek.”

Nobody had said that to him before…and actually meant it.

They became inseparable after that moment.

Tweek grew co-dependent on Craig when he shouldn’t have, but it felt nice to finally have someone he could rely on. Craig never called him names or poked fun at his disorder— neither did Craig’s friends, who welcomed him into their group with open arms. It was nice for Tweek to finally fit in somewhere, that in this world, there was a place for even someone like him.

It was especially favorable because, to everyone’s surprise, Craig and Tweek got along perfectly. They had similar humor, liked similar things, and lived somewhat similar experiences. They both felt misunderstood and underestimated by everyone else. But they understood each other, and that was enough.

After some time of being close together, Stan and his group teased them for being gay. It went on annoyingly for some time until Craig decided to play into it to shut them up. Once they saw Tweek and Craig were no longer bothered by such claims, they quickly stopped their jokes. Yet, for some reason, Tweek and Craig continued their “relationship” needlessly. Hugging and holding hands became so natural to them; they even did it when no one was around.

Eventually, their parents discovered their relationship. Richard and Helen were elated, immediately using their relationship as a way to sell more coffee. Being progressive was good for business, after all. Laura was glad to see Craig happy, and Tricia was so excited that she began planning their future wedding. Thomas, on the other hand, was displeased.

Thomas was a devout catholic and found homosexuality to be a sin. Upon hearing how Thomas reacted, Tweek approached Craig nervously, who took shelter in Tweek’s home for a few days after Thomas disapproved of their relationship. Of course, Thomas didn’t know where Craig was. As far as he knew, Craig was staying over at Tolkien’s house.

“Dude, shouldn’t you…like, tell him you’re straight? Gah! He seems really upset!”

Craig didn’t say anything; he only stared at him with a look Tweek didn’t quite understand. He shook his head after a while of silence, “Shouldn’t you tell your parents too?”

Tweek opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. They didn’t say any more words about the topic; they didn’t need to.

Luckily, Thomas came around eventually and accepted them both as they were. Shortly after that, their sleepovers became monitored, and the rules were stricter, which, of course, Craig wasn’t exactly thrilled with— primarily because Richard and Helen didn’t appear to care much for watching over them.

Craig wasn’t willing to comply; he was angry that his parents wouldn’t trust him, as if he wasn’t intelligent or responsible enough to be safe.

“I fucking hate them,” Craig growled as he threw another fist towards the punching bag. “I’m not a stupid kid; I know what I’m fucking doing.”

Tweek peeked from behind the punching bag he was holding steady for Craig. “I don’t think that’s it at all…” he said. Craig threw another punch, causing Tweek to squeal.

Craig paused, “What? You’re siding with them?”

“No, I always side with the cutest one,” Tweek said with a flirtatious smile. Craig couldn’t hide his smile even if he tried. Tweek was so effortlessly charming. “But I don’t think they’re being evil for caring. Nnng, it’s kind of nice that they’re panicking over us having sex, just like they will one day with Tricia. We’re equals!”

Craig narrowed his eyes at Tweek, who hid half of his face from him. Craig’s body relaxed a bit from its tense position. He shook his head, “Shut up, cutie before I kiss you.”

Tweek laughed, “Come close, and I’ll kick your ass again!”

After that, Craig’s punches became softer, lacking in the anger they once had.

They helped each other in that sort of way— never coming from a place of judgment. Tweek gave Craig perspective and kindness, and Craig… Well, Craig was Tweek’s first—and sometimes only— friend.

When Tweek was 15, he was desperately in need of math tutoring, so Craig volunteered to help him with his homework. Somehow, it ended with Craig doing all of the work while Tweek played around with clay.

“Honey, I can do all your homework, but I can’t take the tests for you,” Craig said. Tweek yelped, dropping the rounded clay in surprise. Craig smirked, “Careful with your balls, babe.”

Tweek glared at Craig playfully, “I’ll have you know that’s Neptune I just dropped.” Craig froze, unaware that Tweek had been working on the solar system the entire time despite the seven differently shaped balls on the desk. “But fine! Let me get more coffee so I can focus!”

Tweek left and returned with his thermos refilled. He sipped on it before sitting back down again. Neptune was right in Tweek’s spot, as if he never dropped it at all.

“How can you drink so much of that? Does it taste that good?”

“Try it.”

Craig grabbed the thermos nervously before taking a sip. The drink didn’t make it far down his mouth before he reached for the trash bin to spit it out. The taste was unlike anything he had before. Tweek laughed loudly as he handed Craig a bottle of water.

“Bitter, right?” Tweek chortled.

“Disgusting, even,” Craig replied with a gag. “Why do you drink so much of that crap anyways?”

“My parents said it’s making me better,” he responded with a shrug.

“At what? Math?” Craig teased. Tweek slapped his shoulder before chuckling. “When does it kick in?”

“Shut up,” Tweek cackled. He shook his head as he continued to work on his planet sculpture. Craig paused, awaiting the answer that never came.

“So?”

Tweek paused his work; he momentarily hesitated. “My parents have always said I was a special child who required special methods to be tolerable,” he divulged quietly. He fidgeted with the clay on his hands; he felt self-conscious. “My ADHD is a disease that can’t be ridden, but it can be taken care of; that’s sort of the way they’ve always seen it. I was a hyperactive child, loud and disobedient. Apparently, nothing doctors recommended was helping. So, after much hard work, they finally found the right blend of ingredients to put in this coffee to make me normal. They said maybe one day…it could fix me.”

After a long period of silence, Craig pulled Tweek into a hug, surprising him entirely. “Ack! Craig! What are you doing? I’m going to stain your shirt!”

“You’re not broken, Tweek. There’s nothing to fix,” Craig said softly. “You are absolutely perfect.”

If only Tweek believed him.

If only Tweek believed Craig’s words when he said Tweek wasn’t defective— he didn’t need to change to be loved. Maybe then, he would’ve found confidence to stand up to his parents, and the circumstances would’ve been different. Perhaps he wouldn’t be reminiscing about Craig’s lips; he would be experiencing them instead.

If he could, Tweek wouldn’t just stop at his lips. He’d kiss Craig down his neck, similar to what he had done the first time their hands traveled to places that were once forbidden. It was not long after Craig called him perfection they dared to navigate, a week after, to be exact. At that time, Craig had snuck into his room, noticeably frustrated with an expression Tweek couldn’t quite comprehend.

Tweek had been knitting or attempting to when he heard Craig whistling outside his house. He placed the ball of yarn on his nightstand along with the needles before unlocking the window, allowing him in. Craig hadn’t warned him he was coming, but he rarely did when he fought with his parents.

Craig hardly made it inside the room when Tweek was caged against the wall with Craig’s lips pushed against his. The kiss was desperate as Craig pulled him closer, almost as if he wanted to morph into one entity. When they parted, Tweek saw Craig smirk as he was hoisted up and carried to bed. He hoped his parents didn’t hear the squeal that escaped his lips, but he couldn’t worry too much about it. Not when Craig was lying down while he sat right on his crotch as they feverishly kissed.

Craig had called him beautiful then, too. While they shed clothes and pressed their naked members together. They moaned each other’s names against their lips, sharing the same breath as Craig stroked at a steady pace. Tweek, at that time, never thought immense pleasure was possible. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t experience lewd desires or wet dreams. However, when he was with Craig, he’d float up to the clouds, seeing all types of hues scattered across the sky, from his delicate craftsmanship around Tweek’s body. He’d often feel like Craig knew his body more than he did himself with the way Craig would strum his skin like a guitar. It was a testament of Craig’s love for him. Yet, Tweek never believed him when he said he was worth more than five cups of coffee a day.

Tweek should’ve believed him.

Yet, the coffee still went down his throat effortlessly because he desired the cure Craig told him wasn’t necessary. He should’ve trusted Craig rather than Richard and Helen, who scolded Tweek for every mistake. They were quick to remind him how much they hated his disorder, how they wished he was born normal. He was too rowdy, too forgetful, too hyperactive, too distracted— far from the ideal child they pictured. In their eyes, he was unlovable.

And Tweek believed them.

Chapter Text

Craig’s fascination for space began when he was seven years old. Thomas and Laura had decided to take him to the planetarium for his birthday. On the way there, he was angry and refused to talk to his parents after they told him Tricia was too scared to go to the amusement park, and they were unable to find a babysitter. He grumbled the whole way there; even as they took their seats within the building, he complained.

It wasn’t until the lights went out that he silenced. As he saw the purples and blues fill the screen with specks of white, he knew he wanted to stare at it for the rest of his life. That night, he stared at the sky from his bedroom window with newfound admiration for it. As he observed, he thought to himself he’d never see a view as beautiful as the cosmos.

And then, he met Tweek.

Although he was unaware of his sexuality back then, he thought of Tweek as the personification of a sun; he was loud, vibrant, and fun. Craig swore to himself he’d keep that sun in his life as long as possible. Still, even as they delved into a relationship, he knew of the concept of impermanence. Millions of stars have dwindled and ceased to exist; Tweek would eventually burn out as well. Unlike Tweek, Craig wasn’t scared of death. Accepting his fate allowed him to relax and take things slow.

Craig realized he was wrong.

He was scared. No, he was terrified.

Terrified that the star he had been orbiting around was going to fade within the vastness of the universe. Terrified he didn’t do enough to save him. Terrified that their last conversation ended with punches. Terrified that their future together was no longer a possibility. Most importantly, Craig was terrified that the last goodbye he gave Tweek was one of anger and mistrust. Tweek didn’t deserve that. Craig wanted to, no, he needed to make it all better.

That was Craig’s thought process as he made his way to the hospital. He had left his car behind, being too unfit to drive in his state. His thoughts were scattered like stardust particles, and so was his heart. Even then, he glued all parts of himself together to stay strong.

At that moment, all he could think about was getting to Tweek. Thus, with his mind all muddled, Craig ran towards the bike at the side of Tweek’s house— one he had fixed for him so many times— and allowed the adrenaline to take his body there.

After nearly getting himself into multiple accidents, Craig arrived in record time, in less than 30 minutes. He was sweating and panting as he dropped the bike in front of the emergency entrance. He raced inside, brushing aside the security people at the front who attempted to stop him. He skipped to the front of the line, not caring about the confused and probably sickly people he passed by.

“Where is he?” Craig questioned. “Please, he was brought in a while ago, please—”

“Sir, you have to wait in line,” the receptionist behind the computer instructed kindly. Craig was frantic— unwilling to move aside, unwilling to wait.

“Where is he?” Craig repeated.

“Sir, we will help you once it is your turn. You must—”

Before she finished her sentence, a nurse interjected and stepped up. She looked behind Craig to the line of people, who looked displeased but mostly concerned about Craig.

“Please give us a second,” she requested. She turned back to Craig, her eyes full of compassion and patience. “What’s your name, sir, and who are you looking for?”

“Tweek Tweak, he…I’m Craig Tucker. I called the ambulance, and they took him— is he alive? Please, I need to know.”

As he spoke, the receptionist typed on the computer, likely searching for records of Tweek. After a minute had passed, the receptionist pointed at something on the screen, urging the nurse to look. Craig looked at the interaction and subtly tried to peek at the screen but was unable to see anything.

“Right, I see. Follow me.”

Craig was led through halls that seemed to stretch on for miles. It was then that his adrenaline began to wane, allowing for his other senses to finally take in his surroundings. The bright lights, the doctors and nurses that hurried by, and the faint sound of medical equipment— made it feel much more real and heavy. Tweek was at a hospital— he was dying, or possibly already was…

Craig’s anxiety was ever so present, a given that he was sure wouldn’t be easing any time soon, but knowing Tweek was receiving treatment soothed him a little. He stopped in front of double doors as the nurse brought her ID to the scanner, allowing the doors to open. Atop the doors, there was a sign that read ‘Intensive Care Unit.’

The waiting room there felt grim— somber and empty. Craig paused at the entrance and gulped thickly, desperately wishing he wouldn’t have to spend any time there. The ICU wasn’t a place anybody would want to find themselves in; only tragedy happened there. The nurse who had been guiding him spoke in whispers to the receptionist; they both had expressions of despair. Ever so often, they spared glances over at Craig.

With a case as sensitive as Tweek’s, Craig wasn’t immediately allowed to see him. He had been informed that Tweek’s condition was still undetermined. Tweek arrived in a very fragile state, with a plethora of complications requiring immediate medical attention. They had a team of professionals assisting Tweek, and they were doing their best to help him. It would take a long while before they could announce any news to Craig.

In the meantime, he was asked to fill out some paperwork in Tweek’s stead. He diligently answered all types of health questions regarding Tweek’s medical history. Usually, immediate family or legal guardians were assigned to do the paperwork. However, the medical staff was aware Child Protective Services would not be allowing Richard or Helen to visit Tween due to the suspicion of their involvement. Thus leaving Craig as the only person qualified to fill it out.

After he had turned in the clipboard, he was escorted to a consultation room, where he was questioned by a social worker and two police officers about what occurred. There, Craig was forced to recall every detail that could be crucial to law enforcement. Craig hadn’t thought about it— the implications of Tweek’s overdose and what Richard was accused of. He was too caught up in Tweek’s well-being to worry about how it happened. But he had to confront the truth.

Helena— the social worker— was patient. She gave him room to properly think. She would ask questions but not immediately rush for answers, especially when Craig wasn’t rational. He could hardly remember his name, let alone what happened seven years ago. Yet, he tried because he wanted to help Tweek in the best way he could. It was the least he could do for him, who had gone through hell and back.

Between the spaces of overwhelming worry and fragile hope, there was room for Craig to find himself thinking about when it all went wrong or if things were ever right to begin with. He teleported himself back in time in his mind, looking for signs of Richard and Helen’s misdeeds and searching for the answers to the millions of questions he had. He had long caressed the entirety of Tweek’s body and never once saw scarring similar to that. He found himself asking if they had poisoned him using a different method before. His mind came up blank every single time.

To aid him, Helena brought him coffee, hoping that the caffeine would perk him up. Craig, who wasn’t fond of such beverages, accepted. His stomach was empty, his eyes burned from crying, and his brain begged for sleep. Even then, he pushed on.

As he stared at the brown liquid pouring into the cup, he was once again forced to recollect the situation. He thought of Richard and Helen and their obsession with the coffee shop and how they forced Tweek to work long hours. It never mattered how withered Tweek was; their solution to all of his problems was forcing him to drink the special blend they prepared solely for Tweek.

The realization Craig had was nothing short of a breakthrough.

In shock, Craig dropped the coffee on the floor. The hot liquid splashed on him, causing him to wince and slide backward, nearly falling off his chair in his efforts, but his reflexes saved him. He struggled to formulate a sentence. It was right in front of them the entire time. How could nobody notice? The fact that he had been right in front of Tweek, in the presence of the poison Richard and Helen used to intoxicate him, made him violently sick. He was a witness— an accomplice.

Craig felt nauseated.

It couldn’t be true, right? It was too outrageous.

He told Helena of his suspicions regardless, prompting the officers to take note of what he said. The conversation concluded shortly thereafter, and they all parted ways.

Craig hoped enough time had passed for there to be any updates on Tweek.

There was nothing.

Craig had made good use of all the space in the ICU waiting room. He paced, sat, napped, and then paced again for hours, and still, he had no idea what Tweek’s condition was.

The receptionist told Craig they were trying their hardest, but they were dealing with a very unique case. She had suggested that Craig return home to eat, sleep, shower, and wait for the call from the hospital when they had something to report.

Craig refused. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

That conversation took place three hours ago, and nothing had changed since then. The staff must’ve felt great pity. They even brought Craig food from the cafeteria. At one point, the receptionist asked him questions about Tweek, his personality, hobbies, and interests. All details of his lover that Craig was eager to share. It forced him to think of the good things in the past for a bit, and for those moments, he wasn’t in pain anymore.

Craig would suddenly find himself at Stark’s Pond, holding Tweek close and sheltering him from the cold as they watched the Lunar Eclipse. Sometimes, Tweek would read him the poems he wrote about sunshine and rain, pleasure and pain, liberty and constraint. Other times, Craig was in the backseat of his car, wiping Tweek’s tears of overstimulation and licking salt off his skin. Or, he was at school, passing love notes and discreetly reading funny pickup lines. Or, inside of a janitor’s closet, running his fingers through strings of gold, untying small knots along the way, while reassuring Tweek he was safe.

Craig was everywhere; he was nowhere; he was here; he was there.

Wherever Tweek went, that’s where Craig was…

At least, that’s how it used to be. Tweek was in a room along with many doctors, all staying at his side constantly, doing who knows what to his body to keep him alive, and Craig was in another room, not with him, but waiting to be.

Suddenly, a doctor entered the waiting room; given that there was no one else in the room besides Craig, he perked up. The doctor scanned the room and landed her eyes on Craig, who stood up in hopes she was finally going to tell him something, anything, to ease the ongoing storms in his mind.

“You’re Craig Tucker? Tweek’s fiancé?” The doctor asked as she approached him. It was a white lie he told to be allowed in the ICU.

“Yes,” he answered with a weak voice. He was so broken down that he couldn’t speak.

“Hi Craig, I’m Dr. Evan; I’m the intensivist taking care of Tweek during his stay in the ICU,” Dr. Evan said, her expression firm. “Please, take a seat.” She gestured at the chair Craig had sat a few seconds prior. Once he sat down, she sat next to him.

“Is he alive…?” Craig asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Dr. Evan gave a nod, “Yes, he’s alive. His condition is stable, and we don’t suspect that it will change for a while.”

Craig released the breath he had been holding for the entirety of his stay. His body had been tense, unable to relax for hours, and his muscles had gone sore without noticing. However, the moment his rigid body slumped, he became aware of the aching. Tweek was going through worse. Craig couldn’t complain about his tired body, knowing Tweek had been threshing between life and death.

“Thank you for your patience; I was told you’ve been waiting for hours here. Tweek must be someone really special to you.”

Craig nodded, “He’s my entire life…I don’t know what I would do without him.”

“It sounds like you two love each other very much.” Dr. Evan smiled briefly. “Tweek would call out for you whenever he was awake.”

Craig felt good hearing they were mutually calling out for each other. Even though he felt unworthy of Tweek’s affection, he still wanted it more than anything. He’d keep trying and trying until he finally felt deserving of his love and affection.

“Tweek was suffering from hypertension and hyperthermia upon arrival. He was also severely dehydrated and malnourished. We ran some testing. We’ve found minimal brain damage to the frontal lobe, and he is suffering from Acute Coronary Syndrome. That’s all I can reveal to you right now, but I will explain it further once we get a legal guardian’s clearance.”

“Can I see him?” Craig asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Dr. Evan pursed her lips as she thought over it for a second. “I must warn you that he is still unconscious and will continue to be for an uncertain amount of time. We’ve placed him in a medically-induced coma due to his seizures.”

Craig nodded. Dr. Evan then led him to Tweek’s room. He took a deep breath outside Tweek’s room. It was scary, to say the least, to not know what lay beyond the door. He couldn’t fathom to imagine what he would see or how he’d react. For the slightest second, he didn’t want to know. Seeing Tweek in a vulnerable position would tear him apart— he wasn’t sure he could handle it. However, if Tweek could survive going through it, Craig could handle seeing it.

As soon as he stepped inside, his breath was robbed away from his lungs. Tweek— his star, his mornings, his light— was as beautiful as ever, in dreamless sleep while connected to multitudes of monitors keeping him alive. Craig hoped he wasn’t in pain as he slept. Was Tweek at all aware of what he went through? Or did he lay unknowing of his reality?

The realization that Tweek had been suffering for years at the hands of his parents weighed heavily on Craig. There was so much he didn’t know, yet he knew enough to feel great pity for him. How many sleepless nights did he endure alone with endless anxiety?

It was obvious. Right there in everybody’s face, and nobody knew. For years, they had called him spaz, a freak, nobody cared enough to help him. They all merely laughed and treated Tweek like a jester made solely for their entertainment.

‘They all failed him. The teachers, his parents, my parents…me.’

Craig’s legs stuttered as he moved closer. He wanted to squeeze Tweek’s hand, to let him know he was there beside him where he’d always be. But he was scared that the slightest touch would sabotage Tweek’s healing, as ridiculous as it sounded.

“I know you’ve waited for a long time, but the visitation hours at the ICU are strict,” Dr. Evan said. “I’ll give you two a minute alone before you leave.”

Once Dr. Evan left the room, Craig collapsed on the bedside chair. He pulled it closer before he finally grasped Tweek’s hand as gently as possible. It was the first time they felt cold.

“Tweek, I don’t know if you can hear me,” Craig spoke in a hushed tone. He knew the possibility of Tweek being able to hear what he said was rare, given the heavy anesthetics he was under. Nevertheless, he hoped that somewhere in interstellar space, Tweek could listen.

“I’m here. And… Everything’s gonna be okay. So, wherever you are, don’t be scared. This is only temporary, and we’ll be together soon. And— I’m sorry, Tweek. For everything.”

Tweek was so strong, stronger than anyone he had ever met in his life. He had been so close to losing Tweek, and the thought made Craig’s chest ache with unbearable pain. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there?

Before he could torture himself further, the door opened behind him. It hurt Craig to leave Tweek; he wanted to stay by his side throughout days and nights. He forced himself to stand up, and with one final glance at Tweek, he left the room.

“Craig!” He heard Laura exclaim. Craig had forgotten that he had told her he’d be back within five minutes. At the speed at which news travels in South Park, he wasn’t surprised that she found her way there. There was probably already gossip running rampant.

Craig wasn’t ready to face everybody. He didn’t want to go to school and tolerate the many people who would bombard him with their plethora of questions and theories. He didn’t care for the fake narrative they would build about caring and loving Tweek when most of them disregarded him daily. Craig just wanted to stay in the very room where Tweek lay.

Laura jogged towards him and pulled him in a hug. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I know. It’s okay.”

As soon as she uttered those words, Craig felt his tense body slouch into his mom’s embrace. To his surprise, he felt glad to have her there, to have someone hold him when he was on the brink of collapsing. He didn’t wrap his arms around her; he simply allowed himself to be held.

“You did good, Craig; he’s okay now.”

Those words made him want to crumble. It was reassuring to be told he did something right for once. In his mind, all he could think about was everything wrong and all the ways he had failed Tweek. Yet, there in his mother’s arms, those thoughts silenced for a moment. For the first time, Craig relented to the idea that maybe she was right, and he did well. He tried his best and never gave up on Tweek, no matter how much he fought against him. He continued to care regardless of the circumstances. It wasn’t until the very last second that he let go.

Maybe that was okay, too.

Craig understood he had reached his limit and surrendered before he fractured into fragments. He fought restlessly until he couldn’t anymore. That wasn’t an action worth punishing, right? Even though it led to Tweek in the hospital…

“Let’s go home, okay? I’ll bring you back tomorrow. And don’t worry about school for a bit. I gotcha covered.”

Craig tiredly nodded. His body felt heavy; he had no energy to think. He used to argue against losing control; he hated being treated like a child. Yet, he was relieved to turn his brain off. Thus, he didn’t bother to ask any questions or get angry at the lack of autonomy. Craig didn’t accuse Laura of meddling, nor did he argue that he could handle attending school. He was torn down, grieving, broken, and confused. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he could handle the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he didn’t want to try. So he didn’t.

“Thanks, Mom,” he answered.

Craig momentarily wondered if Tweek if he’d agree with Laura. Would Tweek think he did good? Would he hug and tell Craig he understood his actions? Would Tweek be proud of him for allowing himself moments of weakness?

A silent tear rolled down Craig’s eye as he took a deep breath.

‘Please, God, Allah, Buddha, whoever is up there, I beg you. Please, don’t take him away from me.’

Chapter Text

Craig had a dream, which was not all a dream. His bright sun had extinguished, and the stars wandered rayless and pathless in eternal space. Day came and went, one after the other, and along with them, so did the motions of life– school, meals, and sleepless nights. However, that wasn’t the case for Craig, whose world came to a complete halt on the day he almost lost Tweek. Mentally, not a day had gone by, and he was still there, always with Tweek, who lay motionless in his arms in unresponsive sleep.

In reality, nearly three weeks had passed since then– 20 days of numbing chaos, legal battles, sympathy calls, and sifting through Tweek’s belongings. 20 days of elusive rest, no appetite, and echoing loneliness; 20 days since Craig cried last while engulfed in complete darkness with endless yearning for what once was.

But Craig had 20 days to accept that Tweek was no longer texting or calling, which meant he had 20 days to adjust to what his life had tragically become. Once a few days had gone, that hollowing pain became dull, always lingering and ever-present, yet less forceful than it had been previously. It meant Craig had an easier time ignoring the quasar eating up his insides. Similarly, it facilitated Craig’s ability to tolerate the disruptions the town had on him.

Privacy was not a privilege granted to Craig– he supposed that was for the best. The entirety of South Park rioted against the coffee shop when they found out the methamphetamines weren’t exclusive to Tweek. All of the coffee blends had been laced with a minor dose of drugs to encourage customers to return. In protest, the townsfolk vandalized the shop, expediting the inevitable shutdown of what had been Tweak Bros. Coffee Shop.

Since the case became public interest, the chances of justice served increased. In the end, that’s all Craig cared about, albeit seeing Richard and Helen behind bars made him feel grief despite his anger. There was no use in pretending he didn’t care what happened to his in-laws because he did. His concern became obvious when he attended the day of their arrest and when he cleaned the vandalized walls of the Tweak household, which was sure to become government property in the upcoming months. Craig hoped Tweek would return before it did so he could give his proper goodbyes to the house like Craig did the day he was instructed to look through it and take what he deemed valuable in Tweek’s stead.

It wasn’t much.

Despite the Tweak’s wealth, they seldom spent it, especially not on Tweek, who often got by on the little pay Richard and Helen awarded him. The scarce paraphernalia he did have was held hostage for investigative purposes until all that remained was a medium-sized box of clothes, school supplies, and sheet music. It was more than he would’ve been allowed had Richard and Helen not granted custody of Tweek to Thomas and Laura years prior after a car accident left them worried about what would be of Tweek if the accident had been more serious. Craig thought it ironic.

Being forced to enter the house before Craig felt ready was tougher than he’d like to remember.

The day before two weeks would turn into three, Thomas serendipitously picked Craig up early from school. He informed Craig that the police department had called minutes prior with a court order. At last, they had received temporary unrestricted access to the Tweek household, though only for a few short hours. The news was too sudden for Craig to digest. Thus, he was quickly overwhelmed the moment he stepped foot within the prison Tweek had lived in.

The memories of that day rushed in, merciless and cruel– Craig nearly lost his footing. After he caught his balance, Thomas had placed a comforting hand on Craig’s shoulder– an action that would have repulsed him months ago but now found himself welcoming– to grant him a small ounce of strength to move forward. After a deep breath, Craig walked in with Thomas and Laura six feet behind him to give him space. Oddly enough, the house– covered in dust, plastic, and labels– still smelled of coffee, bread, and mint. A scent that used to inspire hope in Craig had turned bitter in his mouth.

Nevertheless, the nostalgia that accompanied them was inviting; Craig smiled momentarily when, at the corner of the living room, he saw the dark brown piano. For a split second, he could hear beautiful, soft sonatas painting the air with enchanting spells that had Craig approaching the instrument slowly.

“What’s that song called?” Craig asked. He placed his hands on Tweek’s shoulders as he pressed a kiss atop his head. “It’s beautiful, but it sounds…tragic.”

Tweek giggled as he continued to play with ease, his muscle memory guiding his playing. “It’s Élégie, Op. 30 by Vieuxtemps,” Tweek replied. “Originally made for the violin, but I transcribed it for the piano. It’s pretty, melancholic, and hopeful all at once.”

Craig nodded. He glanced at the book on the music stand; on it, messy notes scribbled in pencil on printed sheet music, and as smart as Craig was, it all read as gibberish. He was aware he would never understand what he was looking at, but it never stopped him from trying.

“Can you play it again? From the start?”

Silence.

Craig broke out of his vivid evocation. He realized where once there were notebooks and pages of what appeared to him as a foreign language was a legible note that said ‘MARKED FOR EVIDENCE.’

The exhale Craig released trembled with unspoken lament. He longed to see those white and black keys move once more, but they wouldn’t– no matter how hard he craved them to. Thus, he forced himself to turn back to the task at hand. At once, the events of that dissonant day overpowered whatever happy memories were made together by the piano.

Without realizing it, Craig had begun to follow the steps he had taken that day until he was facing the closed door that was Tweek’s room. As expected, Tweek was there– sweating, red, panting, and unconscious. Craig had the dreadful feeling of mortality lingering in his mind; he couldn’t stop them from rushing in. His heart became agitated, and he turned away at once. His head dropped, and he took a few breaths to recollect himself.

A warm arm wrapped around Craig’s shoulder, making him flinch in the process. “Why don’t we start with his clothes?” Laura asked with a small smile. Her voice was strained, still gentle.

Unable to speak, Craig nodded. He closed his eyes before he finally gathered the courage to turn around. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or saddened by the fact that he no longer saw Tweek there. However, Craig did know how alleviating it felt when he no longer had to walk into the room alone.

Noon turned into evening. Then, evening into night. After packing all they could, they returned home to unpack it in Tricia’s former bedroom, where Tweek would reside when or if he woke up. Tricia had been relocated downstairs to the former guest bedroom after they decided Tweek would most likely need supervision for a long while. Fortunately, Tricia didn’t mind. The guest bedroom was bigger, and she would have her separate bathroom, so she didn’t think of it as a loss. Even so, Craig didn’t forget to thank her for her willingness to relocate all of her belongings without complaint.

When nighttime came by, Craig felt emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Nobody said anything, but the way they looked at Craig, he could tell they were anticipating something. It required no words; he was aware he hadn’t cried, and they had been expecting his overdue breakdown to happen. Tricia had given him a long hug before she bid good night. Laura had reminded Craig he wasn’t alone as she entered her room while Thomas did the unexpected and placed a kiss on his forehead before patting his shoulder twice and following Laura into the room. It was evident how concerned they were at his lack of tears.

Craig would’ve rolled his eyes if he hadn’t also been confused at his lack of emotional response. On the way to Tweek’s house, he had been clenching his jaw and fists, terribly sure he wouldn’t have been able to withstand the memories, but he did. Craig had teetered close to the edge, but he never fell. He didn’t know how he endured; he didn’t even know if he had wanted to.

Craig would be the last one to retire for the night. He remained on the couch until he recognized he at least had to try to sleep. His steps were heavy. His body felt like it weighed 300 pounds; he desperately craved sleep. Yet, even while he lay in his bed, he couldn’t run away from all he had faced that day.

Wherever Craig went, that’s where Craig was.

Guilt, desperation, grief, sadness, anger.

They were never too far to follow. It was more than Craig knew what to do with. His room was stuffy; he felt it caving in on him. Thus, he decided to open up his window. However, the moment he sat up, he saw Tweek outside in the same manner he had that night. Craig’s breath hitched as he saw Tweek stumbling while walking away. He nearly opened the window to yell out for him, to cry and insist he stayed, but he knew it was a hallucination— his brain was playing tricks on him like it had been nonstop for weeks.

How Craig’s fatigued brain was able to conjure such a real image of Tweek was beyond him; the accuracy in the details both terrified and amazed Craig. In a way, it kept Tweek alive, which fueled his hope and kept him going. The idea of overriding the horrible flashbacks that poisoned his sanity with joyous memories was sometimes the only thing keeping Craig afloat.

Perhaps that was the case whenever Craig would turn to look beside him, and he’d see Tweek eating his avocado toast with a smile, or whenever he’d visit Stark’s Pond and envision Tweek humming a song while running his slender fingers through Craig’s hair. It was convincing— the way he’d see Tweek’s hardly visible dimple and the soft curvature of his Adam’s Apple. Or, what Craig saw at that moment, Tweek’s sway as he walked and his left hand pulling his hair, made it too real.

Craig couldn’t bear to watch anymore, so he didn’t. When he turned back to his room, the engulfing darkness was overwhelming and loud. The weight of the situation sat on his chest, pressing down with the mass of Saturn. The fabric of space bends under such weight, and Craig, too, was caving in. He felt whatever grip he had on his emotions slipping; he was stretching beyond his limits. And the loneliness etched so deeply into his mind, it burned.

It was intolerable.

Craig’s body moved on its own towards Thomas and Laura’s room. If he hadn’t been so saturated with his feelings, he would’ve been surprised to find their door open. Laura was solving a crossword puzzle while his dad read a book, and amidst Craig’s silence, they found recognition. It was Laura who made the first move. She took off her glasses and placed them on the nightstand, along with her puzzle book. Then, she opened her arms, inviting him to seek her comfort.

Craig could no longer hesitate.

In long strides, he approached the bed. He barely made it to Laura’s arms when his body collapsed like a rag doll. The comforting scent of lavender filled his senses. It was a familiar yet distant smell that had engulfed him since childhood. One Craig had pushed away for so long out of spite and fear. One he had convinced himself approaching would mean resignation. Yet, at that moment, he held the lavender scent close; he felt safer than ever– accompanied, supported, and loved. It made him remember he was someone’s child again.

Craig surrendered.

The sobs were loud, painful, and guttural– it was more stalwart than expected. Craig’s body suffered through tremors as he wept. It was freeing, in a way, to allow the pain to pass through him rather than over him– to finally acknowledge how much he was suffering after everything that happened, not only in the last month but the last 10 years without his knowledge.

It wasn’t fair; what Tweek went through– what he was going through– wasn’t fair.

Craig hadn’t yet fully grasped the full extent of the damage done to Tweek because logic wasn’t healing in the slightest. It was then that Craig finally understood why Tweek never sought logic to help with his anxiety. Despite their distance, Craig felt close to him. He related to what Tweek had experienced before. And he felt sorry– sorry for all the times Tweek suffered and Craig attempted to fix his problems rather than let him feel.

What he felt was undeniably excruciating; it felt like it was ripping his insides into minuscule shreds. Craig hadn’t known emotional torment could make someone have extreme physical pain. In his hysteria, he called out, “It hurts, it hurts,” without purpose.

His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and he desperately hurried to refill them. Yet, no matter how many times he inhaled and exhaled, it wasn’t enough. The room began to spin during his panic, which caused a nauseating feeling in his stomach. All while his mind swept through a whirlwind of thoughts. They were vicious and quick, and they blamed Craig for Tweek’s condition. They reminded him of the possibility that Tweek might never recover and he might die.

Craig felt like he could pass out any second. He couldn’t breathe– he really couldn’t breathe.

Craig truly might’ve lost consciousness had it not been for Laura patiently guiding him to regain his breathing pace. She gave him comforting pats, soft but present, as she whispered words of encouragement, telling him it was okay to cry, to let it out, to give way to his feelings. Somehow, she just knew all Craig needed to hear. She leaned her head towards the top of his head and cuddled him close, and he reciprocated by squeezing her torso a bit tighter. Tears dampened the fabric underneath him, and his nose became so blocked that he found it difficult to breathe through.

Craig’s struggle didn’t go unnoticed. Thomas brought a washcloth towards him and cleaned the little exposed portion of Craig’s face before allowing Craig to blow his nose. Doing so made the situation more palpable; it grounded Craig for a second. Finally, his loud sobbing lessened to silent crying, and the peak of his episode was over. Though he still cried, he felt Saturn’s mass lifting, and the vacuum in his heart was filling.

Unexpectedly, Craig felt arms wrap around his waist and a small body, Tricia, pressed against his back. She was probably awoken by his weeping– if she had been sleeping– because even though she didn’t visit Tweek’s house alongside them, she felt the heaviness Craig carried when he entered their home with the box in his hands. Tricia didn’t know everything, but she grieved also.

Unlike Laura and Thomas, Tricia’s tears weren’t silent. She cried softly, whimpering as she held onto Craig. Half of her body slumped awkwardly outside of the bed from the lack of space. Thus, Laura held out her other arm for Tricia to slide in between her and Thomas. All four of them were close in proximity atop the king-size bed, sharing tears and sorrow.

Craig– as absorbed in his storm of emotion as he was– noted that, for the first time, he was glad not to see space.

Chapter Text

As the Oscillating Universe Theory goes, the expansion of the Universe eventually halts and begins to reverse once gravity overpowers dark matter. There’s nothing left but a dense singularity amidst nothingness. Depleted of all memories of what once was, diminished to absolute zero. Traces of love, tragedy, and hate cease to exist– all crushed into a single point in space. Eventually, it expands once again at unimaginable speeds and temperatures, carrying with it foreign evidence of humanity and alien life. With time, balls of fire cool down, and green seedlings sprout from the ground– perhaps stronger and healthier than it was before the end of time. A new cycle of life starts anew.

In such a phenomenon, would humans be an inevitable creation bound to happen? For infinite possibilities make way for infinite realities. As such, Earth-like conditions are likely to occur more than once. Then, would somebody, like the mother and father one knows, be reincarnated into a being both familiar and strange? And would they raise a child akin to the person they grew up to be?

Would life on Earth repeat the loop as the Universe did? With minuscule differences that could alter the outcomes of tragic events?

If possible, Craig hoped whoever replaced him in that new reality would find the person equivalent to Tweek and somehow, in some way, save him so that he’d never have to see his lover in a state of inertia the way Craig had to. He hoped only he had to hold onto cold hands while desperately trying to warm them with his heat as he prayed to gods he didn’t believe in to bring Tweek back to consciousness. He prayed every time he saw Tweek because what was Craig but a human who turned to religion at a time of desperation? Knowing it wouldn’t work, but exhausting his efforts regardless, in the case it did.

In Craig’s prayers, he didn’t ask for forgiveness; he didn’t even ask for Tweek to remain at his side. Craig solely asked for Tweek’s smile to shine brightly again– for Tweek to find everlasting happiness wherever he went and heal all wounds cursed upon him. Only then could Craig finally release the breath he had been holding for a month.

The month was an unpredictably harsh autumn, although only he felt it so. Yet, he found moments of warmth within his family, a comfort he didn’t expect to appreciate. At any given moment, Craig would find himself opening up about Tweek, maybe oversharing at times, but Laura, Thomas, and Tricia would always listen. He confessed the many times he snuck out of his room in the middle of the night to embrace Tweek wherever they went; the fears Tweek confided, his aspirations and dreams, all so real to Craig but to nobody else.

Craig didn’t understand why he would open up about private moments with Tweek; he just did. Eventually, his family began to share their times with Tweek as well, and they would laugh at the dinner table about trivial conversations they once had. Sometimes, Clyde, Tolkien, and Jimmy would join. Between all of them, Tweek was alive and well.

There was no dismissing all of the spaces of emptiness, particularly at nighttime, when he’d linger around his house like a ghost, searching for hints of his past. On one particular night, he had been woken by a nightmare, a recurring one in which Tweek awakens from his coma only to blame Craig for not doing enough to help him. He knew he’d be unable to fall asleep again and made his way out of his room. When he opened his bedroom door, he was confronted by the view of Tweek’s room.

All Craig could see amidst the darkness were a few boxes scattered around, and as he approached the room, he noticed a suitcase next to the bed that remained untouched. Within it, Tweek’s clothes police finally gave up custody of. Most of them had been washed, which was possibly why the room was open despite his request for it to remain closed. For days, he had avoided even looking at it, knowing once he opened it, the nauseating coffee scent would overflow his senses. It couldn’t be avoided. As much as Craig wanted Tweek’s clothes cleansed, Laura advised him that the most meaningful outfits, like Tweek’s work uniform, should be kept as they were, in case Tweek needed a souvenir of the life he used to know.

As for the boxes, most were items Thomas and Laura bought for him, such as figurines, posters, and outfits, all kept in place to allow Tweek to feel in control of his space. The rest of the room had been decorated by Craig, who placed the furniture similarly to Tweek’s old bedroom. Yet, minuscule details were different enough to remind Tweek he was somewhere new, somewhere he could be free and unapologetically himself. Then, there was the box of the belongings he was able to keep from his past– tucked away neatly in a corner for Tweek to search through once he deemed himself ready.

Craig walked towards the bed and sat down with a sigh.

“Another restless night?” Laura asked. Craig’s head snapped towards the door to see Laura leaning against the door frame. Craig wondered when she also began to appear so tired.

Craig allowed his sight to drop to his lap. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” Laura admitted. She walked towards the bed and sat next to him in comfortable silence. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

He followed her line of sight. It was the digital piano everyone had pitched in to buy. It wasn’t at all like the older piano Tweek had. According to Craig’s immense research, it was supposedly better. And, in his opinion, prettier. The frame was of better quality, a lighter brown than before, and it was 88 keys rather than 61.

“I remember he wanted one just like it,” Craig smiled. “There’s no limits to what he can play now.”

“I can’t wait for him to play concerts for us. I hope he knows how to play Sweet Caroline.”

After a brief pause, they both laughed. Craig shook his head, “I hope not.”

Laura slapped his shoulder lightly, scolding him before she went on about her love for the song. A moment of silence followed, and there was hesitation on Craig’s face, wanting to say something yet not knowing exactly how. The struggle wasn’t a surprise; Laura could see it every time Craig wanted to share his feelings, and every time she spotted it, she’d feel guilty.

“Craig, I really am sorry for the way we treated you as a kid. I wish I had realized sooner how much we were hurting you,” she said. Craig’s body went stiff at the sudden apology, frozen yet willing to listen. “Y’know, I look back at the times when you were just a small kid, and you’d look at me with those big blue eyes and round fluffy cheeks and just wish I would’ve held you more. You were just… So little and smart. I remember when you cried because you stepped on a bug–”

Craig snorted. His body elicited such a response so unexpectedly that he had to wipe the snot on his nose. “Did not.”

“Did too, I remember,” Laura chortled.

The way she spoke reminded Craig of Tricia and how she always teased him. When was the last time they fought like they used to? Even someone as chirpy as Tricia found herself quieter, less gleeful as she once was, an emphasis on how Tweek’s absence was a catharsis that affected everyone.

“That day…I saw you with your little arms wrapped around your little legs, and you cried so silently, hidden in a little corner in our backyard. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how fast you wiped your tears and sat up straight when you saw me… From the corner of my eye, I saw your small frown when you saw me turn away. But I still left anyway.”

Laura cleared her throat to hide the strain, akin to what Craig did when he was also hiding his pain. She laughed nervously as tears flowed down her eyes. In his way, Craig carried Laura’s mannerisms, like the urge to hide any evidence of pain whenever they cried. She clenched her bathrobe and tensed her body as if that was going to reel in her emotions. But then, she let go and relaxed her body, something Craig was only learning how to do.

“I forgive you, Mom.” Craig turned to look at Laura, his expression soft in a way she had only seen when he looked at Tweek. It was one of understanding, of kindness. It brought Laura more joy than she thought was possible. “I’m sorry, too. For being an asshole and shit.”

She cackled and forced him into a hug. Craig struggled against her surprisingly strong grip but eventually stopped and allowed her to sway him playfully from side to side. “You’re so handsome; you look just like me.”

Once again, the room filled with joy. Through their laughter, they hadn’t noticed Thomas approaching them until he was a few steps into the room. His expression was as serious as always, but his eyes told a different story. Finally, Laura freed Craig from her grip.

“The hospital just called,” Thomas announced, his voice trembling in a way it never once had before. Craig’s heart pounded hard in his chest; he could hear it right in his ears. The world stopped spinning on its axis as he waited for Thomas to continue.

“Tweek’s awake.”

Sharp inhales and exhales left Craig’s body, one after the other, at a worrisome pace as he walked through the corridors he had grown to familiarize himself with. The bright fluorescent lights burned as always; the constant movements of doctors and nurses were intimidating, and the sounds of machines beeping were overwhelming— all sensories Craig had never gotten used to, nor did he plan to. However, for the first time, he found himself glad he was experiencing them.

The doctors had told Thomas that Tweek had been awake for a little over an hour; he was scared, confused, and panicked. He could hardly talk, hardly move. But he was conscious and aware of his surroundings. Dr. Evan had chosen to disclose the news of Richard and Helen later, deeming his emotional state too fragile for such devastating news. They only told Tweek he required medical assistance, and he was placed in a coma while he slowly recovered. Dr. Evan instructed Craig to follow the same guidelines. He needed to avoid topics that could stress or confuse Tweek. They would explain it eventually when the time was right.

When Craig— along with Thomas, Laura, and Tricia— were in the ICU waiting room, the situation began to hit him heavily. He doubted his reality; after a plethora of lucid dreaming, he learned to pace himself whenever a moment involved Tweek. His family had to stay in the lobby due to the visitor restriction the ICU had while Craig was allowed to continue until he was finally staring at the door of Tweek’s hospital room. His feet stuttered, and his mouth went dry. If his body had trembled the day he nearly lost Tweek, he trembled most by the prospect of getting him back.

Craig hesitated for a sliver of a second, fearing that Tweek might not want to see him before quickly deciding he didn’t care. Craig had to see him at least once. Otherwise, he’d never be at peace.

He took a deep breath before he opened the door slowly.

At once, Craig was sure he wasn’t dreaming because whatever image his subconscious made could never compare to how beautiful Tweek’s eyes truly were— nothing ever could. Even then, frail and exhausted, Tweek was better than any fantasy he could ever conjure. Tweek, whose golden curls were overgrown and his skin had gone pale like a white dwarf star, was dazedly looking at the nurse who talked to him softly as she took his vitals. His bed was slightly inclined upwards, so he was in a sitting position. Yes, it was all certainly real.

Craig noticed the lack of tubes in his mouth and nose; he recognized it meant Tweek was stable. He was out of his coma, and he wasn’t going back. Craig’s eyes teared up instantly. It had been too long since he saw Tweek’s green eyes, and he missed them so. He didn’t want to interrupt the nurse, but he couldn’t stop his body from gravitating forward, bringing himself out of the shadow that the eclipse had forced him to be in.

Then, Tweek turned his head, and their eyes met. At that precise moment, Craig felt warmth in a place that had long grown cold.

He faltered, scared to frighten Tweek, who had yet to react. He was uncertain of the reason. Could Tweek not remember him? The doctors warned Craig about his impaired memory. Or was Tweek upset about his presence? Did he not want him there after all?

“Craig…” Tweek croaked with a faint smile. Craig released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Tears that threatened to spill moments ago fell down his face as Craig took the final steps towards the bed.

“Tweek,” he cried. His voice came out thin and broken, yet happy. He wanted to engulf Tweek in a tight hug, but he was unable to do so. He settled with holding his hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it.
Craig brushed the blond hair away from Tweek’s forehead and left another kiss there. He looked at Tweek with a genuine smile, the type of smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons. It had been a long time since he grinned in such a way because only Tweek could elicit such joy from him.

“Tweek, honey, I’ve missed you,” he choked out. “I…I’m so sorry, I should’ve…” Craig stopped himself from continuing, scared he would reveal too much if he allowed himself to speak.

“Craig…I’m scared…don’t remember…” Tweek stuttered. He squeezed Craig’s hand— or attempted to with the weak strength he had. The pressure was as light as a feather, but it was there.

“I know, baby, but you need to focus on recovering first. We can talk about it later, okay? I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tweek nodded softly, his breath shaking. “Don’t know…what happened.”

“You were sick for a long while, but you’re getting better now. It’ll be okay. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I…love you too.”

Craig wanted nothing more than to sob when he heard those words from the person who he thought grew to hate him. He needed to discern those words more than he knew. But he couldn’t sob because Tweek didn’t remember how their tumultuous relationship ended— the cries, screams, and punches they shared.

As long as Tweek didn’t remember, Craig didn’t either. Thus, he laughed and pecked Tweek’s hand multiple times as if it were his lips, wishing they were but being content with just holding his nicely warm hand. It made Craig’s stomach flutter in the way it did when they first held hands down the school halls. It happened after their first kiss. However, to everybody else, nothing changed between them.

But Tweek and Craig knew a profound significance lay hidden from the rest. Their clasped hands symbolized something greater— a new chapter, a new beginning.

A new life.

Chapter Text

Within nebulas, a delicate process occurs when stars are born. It takes time for them to form, and so too did Tweek, who progressed slowly but steadily within a couple of days. Some days were more arduous than others, each carrying a piece of his journey— all equally significant in his path to healing.

Craig was both amazed and proud of Tweek, who unknowingly was fighting valiantly through the toughest thing imaginable. Against all odds, Tweek was pulling through.

In a short amount of time, Tweek had more tests and seen more specialists than Craig had his entire life. Although he wasn’t the one enduring the procedures, he felt overwhelmed and exhausted for Tweek just by witnessing the sheer amount of professionals ogling and observing every muscle of his being. That’s why when Tweek would lash out in frustration— an aggression so severe that required sedation— Craig would understand. He’d be worse if he were in his position.

Tweek’s prognosis was rough. It was likely he’d suffer through long-term effects from the drug abuse, albeit it wasn’t certain what the effects were or how severe they’d be yet. The doctors had mentioned Tweek’s heart had taken quite the strain, and so did his brain, not to mention the amount of psychological damage he’d carry forever.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Tweek’s isolation in the ICU exacerbated the situation. There was a strict schedule they all had to follow— he wasn’t allowed to see his friends or family, only Craig and Laura. Tweek hadn’t complained much; social interaction was always a struggle for him. However, Craig knew Tweek longed for familiarity. The only thing Craig could offer was his support and love, promising it would all be worth it in the end.

His promises came closer to fruition the day Tweek was transferred from the ICU to a regular hospital room. After weeks of a multitude of types of therapy and a closely observed recovery, his condition was deemed stable enough to warrant a transfer. The day was full of happy tears. Even the nurses and doctors, who had gotten attached to the youngest— and arguably most devastating— patient in the ICU. They were excited to see Tweek go and threw him a farewell party. It didn’t mean Tweek’s ailments were gone; it meant they were subdued enough that he wasn’t on the verge of dying anymore. His arrhythmias had decreased in severity, and his vitals had stabilized.

To keep his condition relatively healthy, they prescribed a significant amount of medications. There were a plethora of follow-up appointments— who knew how long he would need to attend those. It was a small price to pay when he was at death’s doorstep not too long ago.

With all celebrations came worry. Craig knew the day Tweek would find out about the truth was quickly approaching. He felt guilty for hiding something so important from Tweek for so long, but it was for the better. Still, Craig felt like he was betraying him.

His dilemma shifted when the day came around. Suddenly, Craig found himself wanting to keep up the lie to protect Tweek from the pain. Tweek— whose last memories were of the days before he left for Peru— didn’t know how much suffering was upon him. Craig didn’t want him to ever find out, but it was inevitable. He couldn’t stop Tweek from finding out the truth just as much as he couldn’t stop the Earth from rotating.

Craig was on the hospital bed with Tweek cuddled in his arms, none-the-wiser about the doctors and nurses outside his room, out of sight, in case things went awry and they needed to sedate Tweek. The lights dimmed, and the corridors were quieter than usual. Craig played with Tweek’s hair, amazed at how long it had gotten as he massaged his scalp. Tweek leaned his head back, enjoying the scratches with his eyes closed.

Their moment was interrupted by Tweek’s neuropsychologist, Dr. Byrd. Craig gulped thickly. He knew what was quickly approaching.

“Hello, Tweek, how are you?” Dr. Byrd smiled, her voice soft and gentle, as she sat on the chair across the bed. Tweek had been seeing her for his entire stay at the hospital and had gotten acquainted with her. He seemed to like her more than the counselor and psychiatrist assigned to him.

“I’m okay,” Tweek replied. His voice was stable, having fully regained it three weeks ago, albeit effortless communication continued to be complicated. “You?”

“I’m fine, Tweek, thank you for asking.” She scribbled a few notes before she closed her notepad and set it on the TV stand next to her. “Is there anything on your mind today?”

Craig already knew the answer.

I want to go home.

It was his answer almost every time; ever since he began to formulate sentences, it was his response.

“I know you do, Tweek, and you will very soon,” she reassured. “Are you liking your new room? It’s quite homey in here. Did Craig bring you a new blanket?”

When Tweek had transferred to a new room, Craig felt it barren of life; it was dreadfully stale. Therefore, Craig decided to bring a few items from home to make Tweek as comfortable as possible. What he brought wasn’t much, just a few figurines to display on the TV stand, comfort blankets, and a stuffed animal.

“It’s my favorite…I like how it feels.”

The blanket he brought was navy blue; on it was a large spaceship alongside random planets. It used to be Craig’s favorite as a child. Then, after a sleepover with Tweek, he noticed how much he loved it. It became Tweek’s comfort item. He would take it back and forth to their houses as it was the only one he could sleep with through a hard night. The last spot it was in was at Tweek’s house, and the coffee scent was very potent. Craig wanted to wash it before bringing it, but Laura said it might be comforting to him.

She was right.

Ever so often, Craig would see Tweek sniffing it, usually when he was attempting to sleep. He’d catch a tear rolling down as he closed his green eyes to rest. When he heard his breathing even out, Craig would wipe the tear away gently and kiss him goodnight.

Then, Craig would look at him as he slept with a soft smile on his face. When he knew Tweek was deeply asleep, he’d turn the heart monitor’s sound on. When morning came, before Craig returned home for school, he’d mute the sound Tweek found overstimulating. The beeps served as a source of solace for Craig— a lullaby to help him sleep. It was a reminder that Tweek was alive and in a better condition than before. It seemed silly, maybe it was, but it eased Craig and soothed his nightmares.

Nobody was aware of the severity of his nightmares, all surrounding Tweek’s death. Consequently, Craig hardly slept; he’d be happy if he got six hours of sleep. Moreover, the calming and stable beeps helped the hallucinations dissipate quickly. There were times when Tweek would be asleep, and for a split second, Craig would see his dying body once again. At a time like that, Craig would silently put a finger in the space between Tweek’s nose and mouth to feel those bittersweet tickles against his skin. Every time he felt the gentle blow on his index finger, he’d sigh in relief. Craig wasn’t sure what he would do when Tweek was discharged or how he’d cope.

Craig snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Tweek’s sweet voice. He shook his head and shifted his gaze towards Tweek, who was talking about the music therapy he received every day and how much he liked it when they stopped by. They would bring a small battery-powered keyboard for him to play. It had 32 keys, a sizable downgrade from the usual 61 he was used to, but it was enough to play simple tunes.

Tweek didn’t mention how his finger coordination was off; he didn’t play with the same skill as he used to. Craig supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Tweek skipped over the details, considering he didn’t talk about it with Craig either. He didn’t need to; Craig noticed it on his own account.

The first time Craig heard Tweek play the piano, he was already an advanced beginner. He knew his way around the piano. He could read sheet music and could play a good amount of songs that, although simple, were mesmerizing in their own right— or maybe they were made that way because of the pianist.

Then through the years, Craig had the pleasure of witnessing Tweek improve his skills. He played soothing ballads with ease. His wrists relaxed as his fingers danced on the keys, and he swung to the rhythm of the music with his eyes closed. With every bob of his head, his curls bounced slightly in the rhythm of the song as if they had choreographed to do so. Tweek was a bright star; Craig loved how luminous he shone when in his element. Whenever Tweek played the piano, he looked free— unbounded by gravity and Earthly concerns.

Now, Tweek was lucky if he could get through ‘London Bridge’ without a single mistake.

He’d smile regardless, happy to play for the nurses, who would hear the tunes from the corridor and stopped by to listen if time allowed. After all, Tweek’s rusty playing was still better than most, especially Craig, who could only play the first five notes of ‘Welcome To The Black Parade,’ and even then, Craig struggled to find the correct notes. Every single time, he’d press the G-note and fail at finding the following note as he played a couple more keys. All while spouting, “Wait, wait, wait,” and “Look, I’ll get it right this time.”

Which he didn’t— he never did.

Playing piano is hard; playing piano with brain damage is even harder. The fact Tweek could even find the strength to sit up was impressive enough. If the positions were reversed and the music therapists brought him an acoustic guitar, Craig would probably have thrown the instrument against the wall; he just wasn’t as resilient as Tweek.

If only Tweek could see it.

Craig noticed the way Tweek frowned whenever he pressed the wrong notes, even when he tried to hide his disappointment. Who knew why? He caught the way Tweek paused as his hands hovered above the keys, doubting his ability, insulting himself in a low voice when he couldn’t remember the song he wanted to play. As brief as those moments were, Craig saw them.

Tweek had always been insecure; he didn’t fear making mistakes the way Craig did. For Tweek, every error was a character flaw, something irredeemable. It was inescapable to him, so he’d often stop trying because he didn’t believe he could do anything successfully. In retrospect, Craig recognized that it was a belief instilled by Richard and Helen since Tweek was young. They always spoke in kind tones as they destroyed his confidence with their rhetorical comments. And since Richard and Helen taught Tweek not to trust anyone, Craig’s voice of reason was never loud enough to reach Tweek’s heart.

“You’re very brave for playing in front of nurses, you know? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for that.”

“My parents put me in classes so I could play for customers; they hoped they’d tip me,” Tweek divulged silently. Sadness was evident in his voice as he struggled to formulate sentences. Craig stiffened at the mention of Richard and Helen. “I loved it too much, couldn’t focus on coffee enough…they didn’t like me playing anymore.”

“I see. But now, you can play as much as you’d like. You’re in control of you.” Tweek gave a weak smile, and Dr. Byrd remained quiet for a bit, trying to find the best way to bring up the subject without being too forward. “Tweek, do you know why your parents aren’t here?”

“They’re upset…I can’t work. They run the shop alone now. They probably don’t have time for me since coffee is more important.”

“Do you want to know why they’re not here?”

Craig wished Tweek would say no, but he nodded yes. He subconsciously gripped his shoulder a little tighter as he shared a knowing look with Dr. Byrd.

“Tweek, what we’re about to tell you will be really hard on you, but it’s important for you to try to remain calm, okay? Remember the breathing techniques we practiced. You’re not alone, and we’re here for you.”

Tweek’s heart monitor increased in speed, but not alarmingly so. “They…died?”

Dr. Byrd shook her head. “Tweek, do you remember what happened the morning you were admitted to the hospital?”

She already knew the answer to the question; they had discussed it multiple times. The first few times were different, but Tweek’s last memory had been consistent for weeks ever since. It was the day summer had begun, and the Blood Moon was set to happen that night. For once, an astronomical occurrence wasn’t their main event. That night, Tweek and Craig decided to be adventurous for once and snuck out of their houses to visit Colorado Springs. They rented a room at the Holiday Inn using a fake ID Kenny had given Craig and drank themselves silly for the first and probably last time. While a bit tipsy, they walked to a nearby Walmart and geeked over the sheer size of it like kids going to Disney. Then, to sober up, they showered in cold water made hot by wandering hands, embarking on a quest under the equator.

Craig had a hard time remembering what occurred to set them on that journey, but he remembered why. In truth, it was to get away and breathe a different type of air that wasn’t South Park or Denver– to be free, to pretend to be somebody new. It was an exhilarating experience.

It was wonderful that Tweek retained the memories of such an amazing day— a day Craig would cherish for the rest of his life. But that day was so long ago. So many things had happened before then, things that Tweek longed to know. He’d ask Craig to tell him of their days together if they had shared more adventures akin to Colorado Springs or had experienced new sights before his hospitalization. Craig’s answers were purposefully vague. In part because he couldn’t stress Tweek, but mostly because there was not much to share about those last few weeks– at least not memories worth reminding Tweek.

Unfortunately, Craig wasn’t allowed to be vague anymore; the time had come for Craig to tell him the truth about their last days together. Tweek was in a stable condition, and they couldn’t prolong the secrecy any longer.

Craig cleared his throat and shifted out of bed. He pulled the chair beside the bed closer and sat on it. With both hands, he grabbed Tweek’s hand.

“Our last memories together…I wish it were at Colorado Springs. I really wish it was. I wish things had been better for us.”

Craig hadn’t lasted a single second without crying; the mixed drink of nostalgia and regret poured down heavily on his throat. To have to break Tweek’s heart again made the hit of nostalgia worse, knowing Tweek remembered him so fondly when he shouldn’t be; to shatter Tweek’s life by telling him of Richard and Helen.

Craig quickly wiped his tears and snot with his sleeve and looked up at Tweek. “Weeks before the incident, we had been arguing…a lot. You were acting strange– manic, erratic, violent.” He uttered the last word silently, a whisper, as he recalled the constant fear, the insecurity, the confusion. Seeing where he was now, he felt as if it was a lifetime ago.
Craig continued, “I-I didn’t know what to do. I was at a loss, and I was so scared that you hated me. I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t listen. Every day, we’d fight, kiss, make up only to end up right where we started.”

“What–” Tweek cut himself off. His voice cracked, and his eyes teared up. “What would we fight about?”

It was a difficult question to answer when they had been nearly fighting about everything. Tweek was a short fuse who would find a way to make a villain out of Craig for any small mistake. His lack of answer was almost an answer in itself. Knowing they had fought so often that it was hard for Craig to pinpoint what the arguments were about was a testament to how complicated their relationship had become. Still, Tweek waited for an answer in case he was wrong, and it wasn’t as severe as it appeared to be. Craig so desperately wanted to downplay it to relieve Tweek of that worry, but he couldn’t.

Craig rubbed Tweek’s knuckles as he took a deep breath. “There was just so much.”

Tweek closed his eyes as silent tears trickled down his face. Throughout their relationship, they hardly had disagreements. But to hear what they had become– what he had become– was heartbreaking, disappointing, and scary. To not even remember the version of himself that hurt his lover so deeply, to apologize for actions he couldn’t recall…

Craig immediately leaned over to grab Tweek’s face and wiped his tears. “Hey, hey, no…don’t cry, okay? I’m not mad. Look at me. See? I’m here.”

Tweek looked at Craig through lashes made heavy from tears. When he saw the smile Craig offered, he felt as if he didn’t deserve it. He brought his shaking hands to his face as he sobbed, repeating pitiful apologies over and over.

Craig sat down at the corner of the bed and wrapped his arms around him; he brought Tweek close to his chest. “Shh, Tweek, it’s okay now. Trust me, I forgave you a long time ago. I always have,” he soothed, rubbing the back of his head. “Tweek, you…it wasn’t your fault.”

Tweek pulled away and looked at Craig, his face red and drenched in tears and snot. He didn’t have to ask; Craig already knew.

The hardest part had dawned. Craig didn’t think it possible to forget the way Tweek’s heart monitor picked up as he told him of the day they broke up. The way Tweek clutched onto his chest as he looked at Dr. Byrd with hope that Craig was lying— that it was some form of experimentation he was doing on him. When Craig told him of his overdose, Tweek had a sliver of doubt in his eyes because it sounded far from the reality he remembered. For a second, Craig saw suspicion in Tweek, as if questioning whether Craig was truly Craig or if he had been abducted, replaced by a replica to fool him.

Craig didn’t get to tell Tweek about Richard and Helen; he couldn’t. Thus, Dr. Byrd decided to interject.

“How are you feeling, Tweek? We can take a break if you need it.”

“No, I…” he stuttered. “That wasn’t me. I wouldn’t. Drugs? I don’t understand.” Tweek turned his sight back and forth between Dr. Byrd and Craig. Tweek was shell-shocked. “Where is Mom and Dad? I want to see them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Tweek.”

“Why? They don’t want to see me; do they think I do drugs? I’m not an addict. Please, I want to see them.”

“Tweek, your parents are in the custody of the police department,” Dr. Byrd finally said. Craig swore he saw the moment Tweek’s heart sunk to his stomach.

“J-jail?”

Nobody said a word; they became stagnant, allowing Tweek to absorb the information. From context clues alone, Tweek figured out what they were implying. He was shaking and rocking himself back and forth. His neck spasms began to act up.

“They didn’t mean it. There was a mistake–”

It all happened in a blur.

The moment Dr. Byrd told him of the investigation— all the methamphetamines they found at the coffee shop and their house— Tweek yelled as he sobbed. Craig tried to console him; he rubbed his back as Tweek threw up after crying for a while. Craig attempted to stop him from thrashing as he hyperventilated while tugging to pull his IVs out.

It all happened too fast. Craig couldn’t even fight the doctors as they dragged him out of the room. He stayed paralyzed at the doorway as he watched Tweek fight against anybody who tried to touch him. Then, he grasped his hand when Tweek had been sedated back to sleep.

It took hours before Tweek woke up. He didn’t move or make a sound. He merely stared off into the distance. It took Craig a couple of minutes to look up from his phone and notice he was awake. Hesitantly, he approached the bed.

“Hey,” he whispered. Craig didn’t know what to say or do, but he wanted to offer his presence as comfort– to make Tweek aware that he was there, where he would remain for as long as Tweek allowed him to.

Tweek didn’t budge at the sound of his voice. He merely turned to his side, his hands acting as a pillow as he stared at the wall with a blank expression. It was the complete opposite of his earlier behavior, although his silence was just as intense. There was no tranquility or peace. Amidst the dead space lay heavy devastation.

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

His questions went unanswered. After a moment, Craig stood up to provide Tweek with food. Before he could step forward, Tweek’s frail voice stopped him.

“It’s really true, isn’t it?”

Craig turned back towards Tweek, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. There was a lone tear making its way down his cheeks. Craig sat on the floor quietly, using the bed as a support for his back, and stared at the wall in the same manner Tweek did.

“Yeah,” he responded.

“So they know I’m in the hospital? That I almost died?”

“They were there while it was happening.”

Tweek sniffled, “I just…don’t understand why.” His voice broke as more tears fell, staining the pillow as they hit it. Craig felt his heart pang, though he didn’t move. He wanted to listen to Tweek, to give him the room to express everything he needed to. “I know they could be mean sometimes, that work was more important to them, but I never thought…”

Tweek struggled to swallow; his throat felt so tight that it burned. His chest was pressuring against him, hurting more than it did when his arrhythmia acted up. Inside, his heart was breaking. It hurt so much; he felt like he would die all over again. Secretly, he hoped he would.

He wished they wouldn’t have resuscitated him because dying didn’t hurt the way he currently did. There wasn’t much on Earth that could possibly hurt more than the betrayal of his parents, who have been slowly killing him since his ADHD diagnosis. Tweek never thought they could be that evil— neither did Craig.

Tweek curled into himself. “It hurts, it hurts so bad. I don’t understand why. I’m their child. Why would they hurt me? What did I do so wrong that made them hate me? Why does everyone hate me?” The words he spoke carried grief— Tweek was defeated and broken. He was tired, so tired. He wanted to die.

Craig’s face twisted in concern; he questioned what to say. He thought back to Dr. Byrd’s advice, but it didn’t seem right, too professional and stiff. Craig noticed he was getting too much in his head. Thus, he decided to throw caution to the wind and say what was on his mind. After all, his silence led Tweek to where he was. Craig would be forsaken if he allowed himself to make the same mistakes.

Craig sat up and clutched the bed’s controller. He inclined it forward until Tweek was practically sitting. Craig looked at him for a second, taking in the beauty. Tweek’s eyes were full of exhaustion, the light behind them dwindling, but Craig didn’t focus on that. Instead, he focused on the perseverance that hid beneath the crying exterior. Tweek was amazing— a valiant fighter. Craig needed to make him know it.

“I don’t know why Richard and Helen did what they did. I thought about it a thousand times, and I still can’t come up with an answer. It’s fucked up, it’s SO fucked up. And it pisses me off that they did this to you.”

Tweek looked at Craig, listening intently. His shoulders slumped as he fidgeted with his fingers. He sighed before he looked back down. What he was thinking of, Craig had no clue, but he wanted to squeeze Tweek and never let him go.

Craig scooted closer and reached out towards him; he placed his large hands on both sides of his face. Softly, he redirected Tweek’s line of sight until their eyes met. “What I do know is that you aren’t to blame—”

“But—”

“Tweek,” he said sternly. “You aren’t to blame. No reason on Earth could validate giving hard drugs to a child for years. Even if you did do something wrong, that still doesn’t make it okay. You almost died, Tweek. I almost lost you because of what they did to you.”

Craig wiped Tweek’s tears gently, so gently as if Tweek was a wounded flower— in a way, he was. Like a sunflower with no energy, he slouched downwards to the ground. With time, he’d see light again; Craig was sure of it.

“Tweek, you are so beautiful, so strong, so…authentically you. And that’s more than enough for anyone to love you. I know I can’t replace your parents— nobody can. But we’re more than willing to try to be and do anything you need.”

Craig allowed his hands to drop from Tweek’s face and grabbed his hands instead. He ran his thumbs across his knuckles soothingly.

“I didn’t know what was going on, and I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I know now. It might be too late, but I promise to protect you, defend you, accompany you… cherish you… adore you… I’ll do anything, anything and more in the way you deserve, in the way your parents never did.”

Tweek gasped as tears rushed down his face. Craig caught him in a hug and allowed him to cry for minutes at a time. After a long while, Tweek pulled away and wiped his face with his hospital gown.

“How do you do it, hm? How do you manage to be so beautiful at a time like this? How do you manage to be so strong?” Craig smiled.

Tweek, broken and shattered, returned Craig’s kind smile, “Because I have you.”

Slowly, Craig inched closer to Tweek, making sure to give him time to back away in case he crossed his boundaries. To his surprise, Tweek didn’t, allowing for their lips to touch ever so slightly. It had been so long that Craig couldn’t help but snake an arm around Tweek’s waist to pull him closer as the kiss deepened.

The journey ahead was tumultuous; the trajectory was unknown and terrifying. Even so, Craig didn’t doubt for a second Tweek’s ability to overcome anything. He always did.

Chapter Text

Glimpses of the boy he once knew resurfaced during tender moments they shared under the moonlight when nobody else was watching. Tweek would sneak into Craig’s room, and the light would paint their skin in arrays of white. Now and then, Tweek would laugh, and Craig could feel the wings of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. A lifetime ago, those butterflies were hibernating, longing to bask in warmth. At last, they were out of their slumber.

Tweek had come home after two long months at the hospital, though not all of Tweek was there. It was odd. He often stared into the distance, but Craig couldn’t seem to understand what he was looking at or thinking of. Moreover, Tweek slept a lot; he tired easily. He was quiet and distant. He would eat, take his medication, and sleep– a routine that persisted throughout his return. Sometimes, he cried; other times, he screamed. There were days when he couldn’t bear to part from Craig, days when he couldn’t stand to be near him.

At times, he was restless; he couldn’t bear to be useless, though he didn’t want to be an obstacle either— as expected from somebody who had worked all of his life yet was told he never did anything right. The lack of coordination between his mind and body frustrated him easily. Whenever he stumbled as he walked or dropped things, Craig could see him internally scream before dissociating for minutes at a time.

Initially, caring for him was difficult. Helping Tweek efficiently navigate through his miscellaneous emotions and symptoms without overstepping his boundaries was challenging. Moreover, Tweek’s ADHD proved to exacerbate his problems, especially those relating to his brain damage. His executive dysfunction, emotional regulation, hyperfocus, and sensory issues were notable and complicated to aid. As disheartening as it was to say, there were aspects of caffeine and methamphetamines that helped Tweek’s disability. Fortunately, they found ways to help him cope, releasing another obstacle off his path.

Slowly but surely, they were falling into a stable orbit.

Craig supposed the toughest part was allowing Tweek the room to fail. Laura said Tweek needed to figure things out on his own; he needed the independence he lacked before. Craig knew she was right. Still, he hated it. He wished to be there every step of the way, to attend every appointment alongside him. At night, his jaw clenched, thinking of Tweek sitting by himself across the hall through the lonely nights. No matter how much he tried to hold back, he always found a way back to Tweek– to hug and hold during sleepless hours in the dead of night.

Through those hours— if Tweek had been lucky enough to sleep— he’d awaken with new memories of his forgotten past. On one particular night, he was sweating and frazzled. Craig was aghast– his heart clenched the more he heard Tweek tell the flashback of the day Richard and Helen decided to administer what Richard called “ADHD medicine.” He recalled their horrible actions vividly and divulged information Craig hadn’t known before. Like the slurs they referred to Tweek as or the hits he suffered at the hands of Helen.

Despite that, Tweek still missed his parents and the coffee shop– he missed his home. There was nothing Craig could do except hug him and try to understand, although he knew it was unfeasible. At the same time, Craig did slightly relate to Tweek’s nostalgia. He, too, missed the days when they were unknowing, albeit he’d never want to go back. For even their best times together were tainted by the knowledge that Tweek was never really there.

Craig knew it was wrong to grieve over losing the Tweek he knew, yet he couldn’t help the longing. The only reassurance he felt was knowing Tweek felt the same way. While he cried in his chest, Craig cried softly into his curls. In a way, the Tweek from the past died the day of his overdose, and they would never see him again. What awaited them was someone better— the real Tweek who never got the chance to live. Craig was excited to meet him.

Although Craig closely observed Tweek’s endeavors, he couldn’t entirely grasp what he was going through. Craig couldn’t begin to imagine the anguish, the loss, or the loneliness. There was no going back, no fixing, no remedy. It was just a matter of patience before he would begin to heal, which is something Tweek didn’t have much of. Whenever he felt discouraged, Craig would remind Tweek that he was a caterpillar going through a metamorphosis, a seedling growing into a flower, a planet forming from the remnants of an explosion.

Moreover, after three arduous months, Craig could already see significant progress. He noted the way Tweek was dissociating less and less throughout his days, how he chatted a bit more during dinner, and how he began to utilize his coping mechanisms as he managed his tasks. To Craig, every little victory mattered, no matter how frivolous they appeared to be. He celebrated each one of them.

Recently, Craig celebrated another milestone. It was a Saturday afternoon when Laura decided it was time to properly celebrate Tweek’s 18th birthday, despite being months delayed. She asked Tweek how he would like to spend it, and to everyone’s surprise, his answer was roller skating. It was a risk, given that he had only completed his physical therapy a week prior, but how could they oppose Tweek’s wishes?

At first, Tweek skated as well as one would expect from a boy who had a near-death experience. He trembled and gripped onto the wall for dear life. As time went on, he loosened up and skated alongside Craig and Tricia with little difficulty. Needless to say, Craig was immensely proud of Tweek— they all were. At some point, Craig briefly left to use the restroom. He returned just in time to see Tweek skating alone under the hues of the LED lights.

Craig was mesmerized.

He leaned on the railings and solely observed the way Tweek’s lithe body glided across the smooth surface of the rink. There was some struggle, though Craig couldn’t see it. Not when Tweek was gliding gracefully with ‘And I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing’ by Aerosmith playing in the background. At that precise moment, Craig fell in love all over again.

Before they returned home, Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy made a surprise appearance with an ice cream cake in their hands. Then, in the middle of the parking lot, they all cheerfully sang happy birthday to a grinning Tweek– another achievement Craig secretly acknowledged. It had been too long since he saw Tweek smiling widely.

“Tweek, would you like some tea?” Laura asked as soon as they arrived at the house. Tweek, who had slept throughout the trip home, rubbed sleep out of his eyes. He didn’t instantly answer; he stared out the windshield for two minutes before he nodded.

Craig cringed at the idea of drinking tea shortly after the ice cream cake. Initially, he thought it was odd for Laura to offer the beverage. It wasn’t until he reached out for Tweek’s hand while they exited the SUV that he noticed how pale he appeared. His body tremored, particularly his hands, which were unusually cold. The combination of those symptoms indicated he was enduring withdrawals— an aspect of recovery Tweek struggled to comprehend, let alone manage.

Fortunately, he was in a coma through the worst part of withdrawal symptoms. Nevertheless, his body continued to seek for the past routines it had grown accustomed to years prior. Consequently, Tweek had cravings for foreign substances he hadn’t willingly consumed, which frustrated him a lot. It was yet another reminder– another remnant– of what he suffered through, of why he was living with Craig and not his parents for the remainder of the school year.

The urges were a silent echo of his heartsick subconscious, which begged for a return to normalcy. Those wistful cries didn’t call for their fix at regular intervals. They made their resurgence regardless of Tweek’s mood, usually in the early mornings or late in the night. The time of the day wasn’t a coincidence; it followed Tweek’s former schedule. At those hours, far from anyone’s judgment, Richard and Helen administered the drugs into Tweek’s system.

To quench those desires, he drank warm, caffeine-free tea. The heat radiating off his thermos and the burn on his tongue made Tweek feel at home. At the feel of the liquid pouring down his throat, he returned to the person he used to be— paranoid, anxious, and alone. It was terrifying. But in a way, it was comforting because it was all he knew; it was his identity. His illnesses led every bit of his life, just like Richard and Helen. However, he no longer had them, and it was time for Tweek to take the lead. How could he? He didn’t even recognize himself unless he drank a beverage reminiscent of his laced coffee.

Seemingly, Laura caught wind of those arising symptoms, which was why she hurried to the kitchen to prepare chamomile tea. Craig was partially jealous at how considerably skilled she had gotten at perceiving Tweek’s emotions. The concept of someone knowing Tweek better was unnerving. He hadn’t been aware of how possessive he was until then.

“Hey, Tweek,” Tricia said as they entered the house. “I was searching through a box of DVDs in the garage yesterday, and I found The Sound Of Music. Do you want to watch it with me?”

Tweek kindly smiled, “Sure.”

“Shower first, young lady,” Thomas sternly said. She rolled her eyes behind his back before she skipped past him.

As the tea brewed, Tweek decided to shower as well. He made his way up the stairs, with Craig following closely behind to assist him with undressing. It was one of the many basic daily tasks he stumbled upon, much to Thomas and Laura’s dismay, who weren’t fond of their son aiding his boyfriend get naked. Be that as it may, there was no other option.

In actuality, Tweek’s struggle wasn’t severe enough to need assistance, at least not anymore. He was able to do it on his own if he paced himself. Thomas and Laura didn’t need to know; at least, that’s what Tweek and Craig coincided with. As far as Thomas and Laura were concerned, Tweek continued to strain in that department, although, after seeing him roller skating successfully, they might not be fooled as easily anymore.

Moreover, Craig didn’t withhold the truth to indulge in sexual activities with Tweek. Not that he didn’t want to, because he did. The skies knew how much he desired Tweek; it was borderline sick how often he thought of him. Craig tried to repress his needs, but it was hard when Tweek looked… the way he looked.

Physical therapy did more than help Tweek gain independence in his day-to-day life. It introduced Tweek to exercise and yoga, and it drove Craig wild.

At the peak of his teen years, Tweek’s thin body sent Craig into spirals. Unable to watch porn, unable to satisfy primal urges, Craig was forced to find relief with his imagination and right hand whenever Tweek was unavailable to“lend a hand.” Craig would never admit it, but puberty made him so desperate that any sexual content was enough to send a hand pumping, even when it was just educational articles to prepare himself for the occasion. After a certain point, the hormones settled down, and Craig grew more than satisfied with whatever Tweek was willing to provide. Yet, after many years, who would’ve thought Craig would be right back where he started?

He couldn’t stop his growing attraction to Tweek, whose body was lean and slightly toned. He had gained all the weight he lost at the end of summer and— dear god. Craig would’ve been blind if he hadn’t noticed how a sliver of that weight gain went to Tweek’s hips, resulting in his waist appearing slightly thinner than before. It was simply a miniature curvature made hardly noticeable by his typical loose button-ups. But gosh darn it, Craig would be lying if it didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. In the blink of an eye, his progress in self-restraint was reduced to nothing.

Craig felt horrible for having said urges. Tweek was recovering from a traumatic experience. How could he lust after somebody who was so deeply wounded?

No matter what, Craig forbade himself from making sexual advances on Tweek until he was confident he was in a better state of mind. Years of abstaining had its benefits; it taught Craig the patience of an astronaut.

It may be that Tweek was able to undress on his own, albeit Craig did it for him anyway. Not sensually, but intimately, because he was a deprived teenager, but he wasn’t inconsiderate. There was an element of intimacy that came from shedding clothes and holding each other naked, which is what happened every time Craig violated the one condition Thomas and Laura imposed upon him. He couldn’t help it; there were days he just couldn’t hold back from joining Tweek in the shower.

Today was one of those days.

Under the steamy water, they hugged for minutes at a time. Craig had his strong arms wrapped around Tweek’s slim waist, holding him flush against his athletic body. All the while, Tweek curled himself in his arms, his face buried in the crook of Craig’s neck, exhaling the familiar tickles Craig once feared losing.

Tweek’s breath quivered, almost as if something was troubling it from within. Perhaps there was— perhaps it was his demons trying to crawl their way out. One day they would, Craig had no doubt. Until then, he hoped the scalding water and back massages were enough to calm them.

“You ready to head out?” Craig questioned after a considerable amount of time had passed.

“Mmm…a little longer,” Tweek whined in response. He squeezed Craig’s hard biceps with his hands to halt any movement he dared to make.

Craig chuckled, “I don’t want to get out either, but if Mom finds out I’ve been here the whole time again, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Tweek nuzzled his head further into Craig’s shoulder. “Since when do you care so much?”

“Since you taught me to,” he answered in a hushed tone. As much as he hated to do so, Craig pulled back from the hug. Seconds later, he already missed the proximity they had. Nevertheless, he twisted the shower knob. Promptly after, they dried off and slipped into their pajamas.

The night wasn’t different from the nights prior when they found themselves interlocking limbs and soft kisses as they recalled both individual and shared experiences alike. Tweek lay his head atop Craig’s chest, listening to the sound of Craig’s heart beating in a stable rhythm while Craig played with Tweek’s hair. His other hand was wrapped around his body, cuddling him close until he could feel his chest expanding with every breath against the side of Craig’s torso. They were there together under the worn-out planetary decor in Craig’s room in silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence in the dead of night within a silent house.

The movie and chamomile tea helped ease Tweek’s nerves. By the time he reached his bedroom, the withdrawal symptoms had reduced significantly. Craig could tell by the way his body shakes diminished, and his breathing had evened out. Despite that, he could tell Tweek was troubled by the way his body was tense. His silence carried a weight that suffocated him until Craig couldn’t breathe.

“What’s going through your mind?”

“I don’t know,” Tweek sighed. He shifted out of Craig’s embrace until he was lying flat on the bed. He glanced up at the ceiling. “I wish I were dead.”

Craig immediately sat up in a panic and looked back at Tweek. “Don’t say that.” His voice came out frazzled as the image of Tweek— limp, flushed, and panting— came to mind for a brief second.

“Agh! No, I don’t mean— I’m sorry. I don’t plan on doing anything,” Tweek stammered as he imitated Craig’s action of sitting up. He placed a loving hand on Craig’s upper back and kissed his shoulder.

Tweek was aware the topic of death made Craig uncomfortable due to the recurring nightmares he suffered through, albeit the frequency of them had decreased exponentially. That’s how Craig found his way to Tweek’s room every night. Recently, it was a conscious decision. However, for a while, he’d awaken in Tweek’s room with no memory of how it happened.

Somnambulism— that’s what Craig’s therapist told him after he finally accepted he needed professional assistance. His repressed trauma and emotions from Tweek’s overdose emerged during his sleep. According to Laura, Thomas, Tweek, and even Tricia, who slept downstairs, he’d cry, pace, and yell in his sleep. Most commonly, he’d walk into Tweek’s room and check on his breathing before crying and apologizing continuously. They were terrified for Craig, especially when Thomas found him frantically exiting the house with the notion of “getting” to Tweek.

That was the final push for Craig to request Laura to book an appointment with a therapist for him. Admittedly, getting diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder made him feel pathetic and melodramatic. He’d probably never confess it to anybody outside his immediate family, albeit he felt better about the diagnosis after a heart-to-heart with Tweek.

Therefore, Tweek navigated the issue surrounding death with utmost care and empathy despite being in the worst position.

Tweek grasped Craig’s hand and placed it right above his beating heart. “It’s just that… I don’t want this life. I don’t want to keep fighting to survive. It’s so hard, Craig,” he said. He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m just…so tired.”

Craig allowed himself a couple of seconds to feel Tweek’s heartbeat against his skin. Once he felt ready, he withdrew his hand and sat across Tweek.

Craig gazed into his crying, downturned eyes and stroked his cheek passively. “Don’t choose to survive because it’s easy. The best things in life are never easy. Choose it because it’s hard.”

“But I’m scared…”

“So do it scared,” Craig said firmly. “You can do it, Tweek. You can do everything and more. It won’t be like this forever; it gets easier. What was it that Buddha said? Pain is inevitable, but suffering isn’t?”

Tweek shook his head with an amused huff. “Yeah.”

And as Tweek felt Craig’s arms wrap around him, he didn’t feel his heart hurt any less. But on that occasion, he felt like he could handle it because Craig said he could. He placed his hand atop Craig’s right lower forearm as if non-verbally telling him never to let go. He gripped the cotton fabric tightly, afraid Craig would release him too soon. When was it too soon? Anything before forever.

Craig’s left hand traveled up Tweek’s inner elbow, where he felt the raised scar. He reverently lingered his thumb on top of it before caressing it. It was nothing more than a stain now— a crater on a celestial body after an asteroid’s impact. There was so much unseen history hidden beneath that crater, along with rage and suffering; Craig could feel it. Years of distress and persistence pulsed steadily with Tweek’s heartbeat, interlaced and untouchable.

As the unsteady pulse drummed underneath his thumb, Craig observed the white stars reflected by his night light, along with planets, meteors, and spaceships. Swiftly, he immersed himself in space.

The view reminded Craig that he was nothing but a speck in a vast and seemingly infinite universe. Everything he does or doesn’t do will become irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Thus, he shouldn’t overthink his actions because one day, they won’t matter. He should live peacefully, without regrets, whilst he still could. Otherwise, what was it all for? In the end, wouldn’t he most likely repent the things he didn’t do over the things he did?

Wasn’t that what he felt throughout Tweek’s overdose? Overwhelming regret for the words he left unsaid and his lack of courage to act.

Craig pulled back and glimpsed into Tweek’s green eyes— the ones unparalleled to anything he’d ever seen. He wished to only ever gaze into his eyes for the rest of his life. And Tweek’s touch— loving, gentle, warm-hearted— made all the harshness in the world disappear.

Impermanence is real. But, he wanted to keep Tweek forever.

Craig grasped a chain he discreetly wore around his neck and snapped it, making Tweek yelp in surprise. Then, he released the most beautiful laugh that Craig ever heard in his life. His heart sped up, and a blush crept up to the tips of his ears.

“What was that?” Tweek asked.

Craig didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out to Tweek’s slender hand. “Tweek, you consume every part of my being. You shine brighter than the Sun; you’re more beautiful than the skies. All love songs that I hear lead me back to you. Everything sweet and kind in the world is you. I’m so desperate to be near you, by you, with you. And these urges consume every part of my being. Sometimes, it feels like I want to implode.”

Tweek was left stunned, speechless. It was possibly the first time he ever heard Craig say so much at once. The sincere words were unexpected and sudden; he wasn’t sure how to respond. He spoke passionately, every word uttered with such undeniable conviction. Even after all the words spoken, Craig displayed no signs of stopping his ever-loving confession.

“There is no part of me that doubts that our bodies were destined to intertwine. No part of me doubts that you will conquer your demons. I have faith, Tweek. I believe in something I will happily devote my soul to.”

Tweek remained silent as he lost himself in the ocean within Craig’s eyes. He could drown in them forever. “You’re too good to me, Craig. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Confused, Craig’s brow furrowed. “Deserve?”

“I just...” Tweek interrupted himself from speaking.

He chewed on his lips as he stumbled on communicating. He fidgeted with his fingers while he sought for the sentences he wanted to say. It was disheartening to see Tweek— who once effortlessly expressed his feelings— struggling to speak adequately. Tweek had always been patient with Craig when he presented that issue; now was the time to return that favor.

“I’ve been nothing but a burden on you for years. I don’t think I’ve done anything more than what a friend would do, so this love feels unearned.”

Craig couldn’t believe Tweek genuinely believed that, considering everything he had gone through. He read through Richard and Helen’s case file; he knew why they became stricter on Tweek and why they increased the methamphetamines.

They were scared. Richard and Helen knew Tweek was straying from their grasp because of Craig, and they hated it. They were fearful of what it could mean for their business. The summer drinks, the new recipes, the improved brewing methods— all excuses to keep Tweek stuck at the coffee shop, away from positive influences like Craig, his family, and their friends.

Craig wanted to believe it was inevitable. No matter what, Richard and Helen were going to force Tweek to behave by increasing his drug intake. Craig just happened to meet Tweek, and they happened to fall in love, which meant he saved him from a future overdose. If that was the case, Craig could relieve the sense of responsibility he carried from the situation. Whether he was in the equation or not, the outcome was still Tweek overdosing. Unfortunately, Craig knew better than to believe that was true.

Tweek was a good person; he was a good son. He wouldn’t leave his parents behind unless someone were tugging him away. Craig was tugging him away. Tweek chose to allow him to tug, and that came with consequences. That consequence was his life.

“Tweek, my love is not a prize you have to earn. It’s yours to take, so take it.”

Craig didn’t solely love Tweek for the way he’s helped or loved him; he loved Tweek for who he was as a person. He was kind, talented, fun, and caring. Craig was never bored around him. Tweek inspired him; Craig knew the beauty of Earth, but Tweek taught him the beauty of life.

“You don’t have to try for me to love you; you don’t have to do anything at all. It’s not that you haven’t done anything for me because you have. It’s just that you didn’t need to do anything to be loved. That’s what makes you that much more incredible.”

Tweek released a breathy laugh. Tears continuously streamed down his face. They left an acrostic in their wake. “Were you always this poetic?”

“Anyone can become a poet when they have a beautiful boyfriend like you.”

In that instant, their lips met in a passionate kiss. Both tried to pour their hearts into the exchange, saying what they couldn’t say in words. While Tweek’s teeth lightly nibbled on Craig’s bottom lip, Craig’s hand stroked the fingers on Tweek’s left hand with his calloused fingertips. After a while of kissing, Tweek pulled away ever so slightly.

“Mr. Craig Tucker, are you masturbating my fingers?” He murmured against his plump and swollen lips. In response, Craig chuckled before reconnecting their lips once more. Their mouths swallowed the other so profoundly that there came a point where it was hard to tell where Tweek’s taste ended and where Craig’s began.

Unexpectedly, amid their kissing, Tweek felt something hard and cold slide onto his ring finger. In shock, he pulled back with a shriek. He peered down, and there, gleaming brightly, sat a gorgeous opal ring.

The color was a translucent medium blue-green. Its shape was raw, resulting in a somewhat uneven and imperfect shape. The gold, branch-shaped band exquisitely complemented the gemstone it held, and from a few twigs, gold flowers with specks of white opal stood.

Tweek gasped. “Is this…?”

Craig smiled and brought the ring towards his lips so he could place a kiss. Subsequently, Tweek’s eye caught the glare of another shiny object; it lay on Craig’s left ring finger. It was similar to his own; both were gold with branch detailings expanding around the band, except Craig’s was thicker. The flowers were absent on his; instead, they held small opals like stars on a tree.

Craig had purchased the rings months ago in Peru after a vendor had practically accosted him to inform him about his precious gems. He had repeatedly told the vendor he wasn’t interested, only to be ignored. Eventually, the vendor pulled out a box he had hidden and told Craig he had been waiting to sell the gem to the perfect person, which Craig thought was useless nonsense until he saw the stone.

Instantly, the image of Tweek with the gemstone on his ring finger appeared in his mind. Shortly after, Craig bought it and scoured the local markets to find a jeweler who could fulfill his intricately detailed request.

In the months leading up to their anniversary, Craig could only think about how he’d present it to Tweek. He agonized over every detail— the time, the words, the ring box, the place. It was crucial to get it right. Then, the day finally came around, and Craig didn’t get to say or do anything of what he had meticulously planned for.

Since then, Craig had stealthily worn the rings around his neck. It was easy to hide them until Tweek moved in. Regardless of the inconvenience, he continued to wear them. And they burned. They burned the skin they touched with resentment for all that was taken from him.

Tweek’s return home made it easy to forget what Craig missed out on. He was relieved to have him around, to appreciate the second chance life had granted him. Craig was so focused on relishing his return that he sometimes forgot about the months he spent agonizing over Tweek’s words and actions. It was easy to forget Tweek was the face he saw before he got punched in the place he had intended to propose.

The scalding touch of the rings reminded Craig of his lost senior year, the struggle to focus, and the effect their tumultuous relationship had on his GPA. He wasn’t able to embark on the typical high schooler’s expeditions alongside his friends. At the time, he didn’t care. He was too involved in his predicament with Tweek. But time had passed and gone. Craig mourned for the last portion of his childhood, the one he chose to omit for the sake of love.

And Tweek remembered none of what happened.

It was a funny feeling.

As Tweek recovered, the burn decreased until it developed into somewhat of a scab. Though the bitterness of his lost youth persisted, it became less angry and more melancholic. During quiet exchanges with Tweek at night, when they kissed each other’s salty tears, the weight of the rings felt heavy with the many possibilities of what could have been.

It no longer bared Craig’s lonely mourning. It carried Tweek’s sorrow along, too. After all, there were two rings on the chain.

Tweek had his senior year stolen, too.

His memories were stolen. His time, his life, his personality. It was all nothing but an illusion— a staged play of a fictional character. None of it was real; it was merely a masterfully manufactured simulation.

The time to dwell on the simulation created by Richard and Helen had come to an end for Craig, who was able to bid his goodbyes to the house, attend the court proceedings, and return to school. Tweek needed more time to recover from what he lost. Craig could help him move forward.

The rings wanted to move forward.

Craig felt they were a reminder of what was lost. In reality, they were a promise of finding the future.

“Marry me, Tweek,” Craig nervously pleaded. “I know it’s not an ideal proposal, but—”

Tweek jumped into Craig’s arms, sending him toppling backward with a laugh. Tweek showered him in chaste kisses all through his face, like a woodpecker carving a tree. Once Craig recovered from the impact, he hugged Tweek tightly. His heart had been pounding incessantly in his chest. Finally, relief washed away his worries. Upon Tweek’s retrieval from the embrace, Craig saw a cheeky smirk.

“Wanna sneak out to Stark’s Pond?”

Goosebumps ran throughout Craig’s body as he sat hidden by tall pine trees that stretched out into the starry night sky as they danced to the warm breeze of the spring. Beside him lay Tweek atop a thick cotton blanket, pensive as he observed the beaming specks of heat.

“I can’t remember when I lay here last,” Whispered Tweek.

The sound of his soft, angelic voice combined pleasantly with the crackle of the leaves as they swayed amongst the trees. It all echoed through the night and made its way into Craig’s heart as a symphony of melancholy. Through the chirping of the crickets and the faint bird calls in the distance, Tweek’s voice called out to him as if it was his saving grace sent from above as an answer to his life’s monotony. In the loneliness of the night, Tweek was his solace.

Hints of innocence made their way through his tone of voice; Craig didn’t want to speak about the blood and tears they shed that day. At the same time, he yearned to free himself of that memory– one he had yet to utter a single word about to anyone, though he didn’t know why.

“You came here a few hours before your overdose,” Craig divulged with a frown. He turned his head towards the engraved tree, which stood feet away from him. “You were different, then. Frail, broken… tired.”

Tweek was stagnant as he watched Craig lose himself within his vision. Tweek closed his eyes, trying to join him there. Try as he might, he couldn’t.

“But despite your tattered state, you packed quite the punch,” he chuckled, albeit bitterly. Tweek pursed his lips with a quiet huff. He felt his heart squeezing tightly as he absorbed the information. It felt as if Craig was recalling a story with somebody else rather than him.

Craig relented his sight from the tree and returned to the sky. “That night…I thought to myself, ‘This is it. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.’ Hours later, you were dead.” There was a heavy pause. “That was also the last time I came here.”

“But we’re here now,” Tweek smiled. “Together.”

When Craig turned his head, he met with Tweek’s gentle eyes. The glistening Moon reflected onto his skin, and Craig found himself catching sight of a deity. He had seen it many times before. Whenever Tweek faced a challenge and persevered, at dusk, when he woke and chose to live, Craig saw that deity, brave and strong, inside his being. It was undeniably grand and beautiful.

For a second, his eyes fell onto Tweek’s lips– soft, plump, and pink– before they made their way back to meet his eyes, during which a spark overcame Craig. A sense of familiarity overwhelmed his senses; a feeling of both old and new overshadowed his vision.

He was looking at Tweek– not child Tweek or high Tweek, just Tweek, lovely, strong, and tender with a pure heart tainted by the harshness of the world.

Craig was part of that harsh world. He wanted to taint Tweek with pleasure.

“We are.”

Tweek sat up beside him and placed a loving hand on Craig’s cheek. Within a simple touch lay all of Craig’s desires. A grace of Tweek’s hand against Craig’s tear-stained cheek and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. He had to take a deep breath to regain it.

“I’m sorry, Craig. I really am.”

Craig shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I might’ve not been myself, but I still hurt you. You don’t have to hide that pain from me.”

Of course, Craig remembered. He recollected every detail as if it was only yesterday– every word Tweek bitterly spat, the life dwindling as days went by. All the months he spent solving answerless puzzles and meaningless riddles were rapidly expanding away from him– like the universe. As those memories drifted further and further apart, Craig continued to observe and analyze them. No matter how far they got, it was his memoir to agonize until he inevitably died. Although it ached, he preferred it to persist.

“I don’t intend to hide anything from you. What happened back then was horrible, and it felt like I was in hell. I thought I was being an asshole, and I felt useless all of the fucking time. No matter how hard I tried, everything went to shit.”

Tweek’s hand withdrew itself from Craig’s cheek. Tweek’s face fell despite his attempt to display neutrality. He bit his inner cheek anxiously. He had guilt building up in his stomach; the idea of hurting Craig was nauseating. It was hard to believe it was real.

“The pain is mine to handle, and only I can make it stop. So don’t keep apologizing because the one to forgive is gone, okay? He’s gone, and he’s not coming back because you’re here now.”

“But–” Craig shushed him by putting his index finger over his lips. With an inconspicuous smirk, Tweek opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the digit.

Craig thought it was single-handedly the most seductive thing Tweek had ever done.

He pressed his finger against Tweek’s warm tongue, and in response, Tweek swallowed it further. Craig’s heart was beating so hard within his chest that he ached for more. Tweek wantonly glanced at him through his eyelashes before he withdrew himself, making sure to release his thumb with a wet ‘pop!’

Craig might’ve whimpered if he hadn’t captured Tweek’s lips in a passionate kiss within that instant. The kiss was clement and slow, perhaps a bit hesitant on Craig’s part, who overanalyzed Tweek’s body language in search of any hint of discomfort. However, after a while, he allowed himself to melt within his lips. Craig grew bolder and placed his hand on Tweek’s thigh, where it slowly slid upwards. He paused inches below his groin before he squeezed the flesh.

“Craig,” Tweek shuddered under his breath.

When they leaned back in, there was no fighting for dominance or hesitation. Tweek immediately surrendered to Craig and melted into his hands, allowing Craig’s tongue to delve in. The absence of coffee made Tweek’s taste different in the best way possible. There was no bitterness. It was the opposite, sweetness with herbal tones, a taste suited for his personality. It had Craig addicted as he slowly inched forward while Tweek leaned back. He spread his legs for Craig to slide in between them all while they continued sliding their tongues in a heated dance. Craig’s unquenchable thirst must’ve been evident, his eagerness bursting through the seams; Tweek couldn’t help but giggle. Something so simple made it harder for Craig to pull back.

“Wait, Tweek,” Craig stammered. His breathing was ragged and harsh, his lips swollen with spit.

Tweek whimpered beneath him. “Craig…please.”

He gulped thickly, “I know, I want it too, I promise. But we can’t, not yet. Not until I know you’re ready.”

“Craig,” Tweek said, his voice dropping a couple of octaves, possibly the deepest Craig had ever heard it. “I’m ready.” Tweek retrieved something from his pocket and placed it in Craig’s hand. The packet was dark purple. 0n it, the words ‘Personal Lubricant’ were imprinted.

Craig was at a loss of words. “Tweek, where did you get this?”

Tweek blushed. “Clyde gave it to me while we ate cake.” Craig rolled his eyes. He should’ve known without asking; Clyde was the only one brave enough to do such a thing. “That’s not the point. The point is that I’m ready.”

“You’re only ready now because Clyde the Pervert got in your head with this.”

“No! No, Craig, it’s not like that.” Tweek theatrically groaned as he covered his face with both hands. “It’s embarrassing, okay? But for a while now, I’ve been going through… changes.”

The announcement came as no surprise to Craig, who had noticed the changes as soon as they began to emerge. However, the specifics of why they occurred were an enigma he hadn’t thought to ask about. He simply assumed the improved diet and supplements caused it. As Tweek explained, Craig realized all the context he had missed.

According to Tweek’s doctors, the amount of methamphetamines Tweek consumed caused a significant puberty stunt, which heavily affected him in several aspects, particularly hormonal. Thus why, Tweek took three weeks of low-dose testosterone. The doctors said it was a “kick-start protocol” since the stunt was minimal enough to be considered a delay. Moreover, he was young enough to undergo natural growth, so long as he followed his dietician’s orders.

“I think…a week ago, I texted Clyde because I’ve been dealing with…urges. I couldn’t understand until he told me it sounded like him in ninth grade,” Tweek blushed while finally removing his hands from his face. “I didn’t think he’d go as far as giving me ‘the talk’ and that thing you’re holding.”

Craig chortled as he endearingly looked at Tweek. “You could’ve talked to me.”

He frantically shook his head. “Even telling you now is embarrassing.”

“What? That you’ve been having impure thoughts about me while I’ve been doing nothing but innocently taking care of you?”

“Aghhh, no, dude, stop it!”

Tweek attempted to turn around and bury his face into the blanket, but even with his newly broad shoulders and toned muscles, Craig manhandled him with ease. Tweek’s arms were pinned atop his head by Craig’s hand, resulting in his shirt rising and exposing his abdomen.

“You’ve been fantasizing about me? Is that why you dragged me out here? To seduce and deflower me?”

Tweek’s eyes opened wide. He thrashed beneath Craig as he whined and begged for him to stop. He twisted and turned but to no avail; Craig’s grip was just too tight. After a while, he gave up and remained pliant under him, like prey before it was pounced on by its predator.

“Agh! Stop staring at me like that, dude!”

“Like what?”

“Like…you’re going to eat me or something.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Tweek whined yet didn’t deny the accusation. Craig smirked at the lack of answer. “We still can’t do it, but I can let you borrow my hand.”

Tweek pouted. “W-why not?!”

“Sex isn’t just purely physical, honey. It’s mental and emotional, too.”

As Craig spoke, his hand slowly made its way up his torso, raking his shirt up as he did so. His eyes landed on his pink, perky nipples, pretty and proud, right on Tweek’s chest. His fingers moved on their own; they rubbed and squeezed until they hardened under his touch. The sensation caused Tweek’s mouth to fall open with a squeal. He shut his eyes, and his legs pressed tightly together while Craig watched as his pretty chest pushed upward in search of more.

“Let’s work our way up from where we left off instead of just jumping straight for it.”

Tweek was unable to coherently respond as he was too busy being attacked by pleasure. His reaction pleased Craig, who bent forward to take the nipple in his mouth while his hand pinched the other, all while still pinning Tweek’s wrists. He flicked the nipple repeatedly with his tongue as Tweek’s moans increased in volume.

“Craig…please,” Tweek huffed, pushing his hips upwards as a silent plea to be touched. “I’m close…”

With one last suction, Craig withdrew himself from his position. He pecked Tweek’s lips as his hand left his nipple and traveled its way toward Tweek’s pants. He held his breath as he felt Craig’s hand wrap itself around his member.

“Don’t do that,” Craig said. “Breathe for me, love.” Tweek took a deep breath and slowly released it under Craig’s instructions. “Good job, honey. You’re doing so good.”

Craig gave an experimental stroke. As a response, Tweek’s cock pulsed upward with a spurt of pre-cum spilling from the very tip onto his pelvis. Just by the feel, Craig’s member twitched in his pants, causing him to groan.

At last, Craig freed Tweek’s wrists and sat up. In one swift move, he removed Tweek’s pants. The sudden feel of the air hitting his member made Tweek pathetically whimper.

“You’re so beautiful, honey. I love how you shine under the stars, how the Moon reflects in your eyes, and how your skin looks next to the grass. You’re so gorgeous.” Craig began to stroke the red, leaking cock rapidly just as he reached under his sweatpants to mimic the motion. “I’ve been fantasizing about you too; how it would feel to have you underneath me like this. How it would feel like to be inside you.”

The words made Tweek elicit the most pleasing explicit sound yet. He threw his head back and pushed his hips upwards. “I want that too, Craig. I want you… inside,” Tweek purred as he bit his lip.

Those words pushed Craig over the edge, releasing ropes of sticky cum into his hands and pants with a loud grunt. A few pumps later, Tweek did too, staining his bare stomach with white. He gasped for air as Craig lazily pumped every last drop out of him. He whispered sweet words in his ears as Tweek’s body spasmed out of control from the overstimulation.

Craig spread kisses all over his face and neck as he came down from his high. “You did so good, honey. Keep breathing. You’re so beautiful.” He released Tweek’s limp member before wiping his stomach clean with his shirt. When Tweek’s pants were back on, he slumped next to him and hugged him tightly.

Craig wasn’t sure at what time they arrived back home; he didn’t care either. He was too focused on the feel of Tweek’s breath tickling his neck as they cuddled in the bed they had abandoned a while ago. He played with the ring on Tweek’s finger with a faint smile.

The ring didn’t burn. It wasn’t heavy. There was no resentment or melancholy.

But there was love. And it felt right.

Chapter Text

Indistinct chatter was heard from the kitchen, progressively growing louder as Craig approached. He was panting and sweating, having completed his workout routine merely seconds ago. He wiped his forehead with the white washcloth lazily thrown around his neck before he walked through the double-swinging door.

In the kitchen, Thomas, Laura, and Tricia sat finishing their lunch while in formal clothing. Craig had anticipated they’d be there at the dinner table but was surprised when Tweek was missing. Craig didn’t instantly worry, despite knowing how difficult of a day it had been for Tweek. His family had been there for the entire duration Craig was gone. They would have informed him if something was amiss.

“Is this a business meeting?” Craig joked as he walked past them on his way to the fridge.

“It’s for my concert, genius,” Tricia answered sarcastically. “I told you three times today.”

“If I didn’t care the first three times, why would I care the fourth?” Craig said after taking a big gulp of water. Tricia stood up to hit him before she was tugged back down by Laura.

“Finish your food and you,” Laura scolded. She pointed at Craig. “Knock it off. Sit down and eat your meal.”

Craig didn’t respond. He walked towards the dinner table and sat at his usual spot across from Thomas. “Where’s Tweek? Did he eat already?”

“Still sleepin’”

“Is it okay that he’s slept this long?” Tricia asked as she took a bite of her chicken drumstick. “Doesn’t he have, like, five thousand pills to take right now?”

“He hasn’t woken up at all?” Craig questioned, surprised. He had been at the gym for an hour. By the time he left to exercise, Tweek had already been asleep for two hours.

“Well, if he’s awake, we ain’t heard him.” Laura snatched Thomas’ wrist to look at his watch. As a result, he dropped his fork with a confused expression. “Goodness gracious, it’s already 3 pm. We gotta go.”

“You sure Tweek’s not awake?” Tricia pouted. “He was looking forward to coming along.”

“The kid’s had a tough day, Trish. Give him a break,” Thomas said. He collected the plates from the table and stacked them in the dishwasher.

Tricia’s shoulders deflated as she frowned. Craig couldn’t help but feel a little bad for her. She had been chatting excitedly about her upcoming concert ever since she was selected to sing a solo. Tweek– who had been avoiding the piano for months– volunteered to help her practice. Afterward, they’d practice often, a minimum of three days a week for an hour. Finally, the day had arrived, and he was unable to attend.

“You should perform it when you come back home. Think of it like a private concert,” Craig suggested. “I would, um, love to hear it.”

It wasn’t a lie. Every time Tweek and Tricia rehearsed, the door to Tweek’s bedroom would be closed. All he could hear was muffled singing because they’d kick him out of the room whenever he tried to get in. Tweek wouldn’t even allow him to tease Tricia— that’s how important it was to her. But admitting he cared was embarrassing.

When Tricia heard Craig’s suggestion, she perked up. “If you make fun of me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I won’t.”

“Well, if we don’t go now, you’ll miss rehearsals, and that private concert will be your only concert,” Laura said. Tricia immediately bounced on her feet and hurried to the front door. Then, Laura turned to Craig. “I left Tweek’s lunch in the microwave. Make sure he takes his meds. He forgot yesterday.”

Laura didn’t wait for Craig’s response. She gave him a peck on the cheek before quickly trotting out of the kitchen with Thomas following shortly behind her. A few seconds later, Craig heard the front door open and close.

A shower and a meal later, Tweek still hadn’t woken up. Concern gnawed at his stomach, and Craig finally decided he should wake him. He jogged up the stairs before entering his room. It was dark; his curtains entirely blocked the light from outside. The only thing he could see were the stars and planets being reflected onto the ceiling by his nightlight. He could faintly hear a lullaby playing from his TV as he walked inside. It wasn’t until he was a few steps away from the bed that he could see Tweek’s small body in a fetal position under the blankets.

His breathing was steady, indicating that he was deeply asleep. He must’ve been so exhausted; Craig felt guilty about waking him. However, if he continued to sleep, he’d have trouble sleeping through the night. Plus, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 8 am.

Waking Tweek was a delicate process. It involved lots of gentle hair brushing and soft name calling to not startle him. Usually, he’d awaken within five minutes. That time, though, Tweek hadn’t stirred even after eight minutes had passed— a clear indication of the mental exhaustion he suffered earlier. At any other time, Craig would’ve resigned from his efforts, but Tweek had already missed his afternoon medication the day prior. He couldn’t afford to miss another dosage.

A few minutes later, Tweek finally stirred and moaned in complaint as he stretched his limbs. Craig grabbed the LED lights controller from his nightstand and turned them on. Against the navy blue hues, he could see the pillow creases imprinted on Tweek’s face. He chuckled in a low tone and ran his thumb across them as if to make them disperse under his touch.

“Good afternoon, honey,” he greeted as he pressed a kiss on Tweek’s forehead. “It’s time to eat, baby.”

As expected, Tweek didn’t respond— he never did upon waking up. It usually took him a few minutes to react. He blinked up at the ceiling, clearly not all there. Craig pressed down against his chest and spoke loving words. He reminded Tweek he was safe; he was at home, away from danger. He wasn’t running late for anything and could take however long he needed. Finally, Tweek yawned. That was the sign Craig needed to know Tweek had exited from his dissociative state.

“Why don’t you go wash up, honey? I’ll reheat your food so you can take your meds.” Tweek weakly nodded in response. Craig smiled and pressed another kiss before exiting the room.

“Nnggg, how long was I out for?” Tweek questioned after he joined Craig at the dining table. “I feel like I got run over by a truck.

“Nearly five hours, I think?” Craig replied. He brought his plate of chicken and vegetables alongside Tweek’s vegetarian lasagna to the table.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Tweek groaned. He rubbed his eyes and yawned once more. Craig handed him four pills of different shapes and sizes along with a warm mug of rooibos tea, Tweek’s favorite. “Thank you.”

Craig nodded. He sat beside him and interlocked their legs together. He watched and rubbed his back as Tweek took his pills one by one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

Craig looked for signs that indicated Tweek was lying, but he found none. He truly looked better despite the circumstances. Earlier that day, Craig had expected Tweek to have a mental breakdown or an absent day, which is when Tweek shuts down completely from emotional distress and overstimulation. Yet, Tweek was beside him— pretty, tender, delicate— eating lasagna in a somewhat calm state.

Two weeks ago, Tweek had requested to see Richard and Helen for the first time since his hospital stay. Admittedly, Craig was dubious and worried. Tweek had come so far in his recovery; he was scared that visiting his parents, who were in prison, would undo the work he had put in. Nevertheless, Craig supported his decision, especially after Tweek received clearance from his therapist and psychiatrist. If they believed in Tweek, so could Craig.

The morning of the monitored visit happened earlier, and Tweek had asked for Craig to accompany him, which he was more than happy to do. Honestly, the visit was nothing like Craig had expected.

“Oh Jesus,” Tweek groaned as soon as he saw Richard and Helen across the room. They wore the typical orange wear, which made Tweek sick to his stomach. He immediately turned around and took a deep breath.

Richard and Helen had yet to notice Tweek’s presence. They chatted with the guard standing in a corner, with the uncanny smiles Craig hadn’t seen since the day of their sentencing. It bothered him how normal they appeared to be after everything they’ve done to their son. It felt unfair. They had been aware of Tweek’s condition because of the information used as evidence against them. They knew the severity of the damage they caused. Yet, they looked normal, unfazed. It infuriated Craig, who clenched his jaw as he glared at them. He mimicked Tweek’s action and turned around. Then, he silently reached out for his hand.

“I’m right here with you, honey. Remember they can’t hurt you anymore,” Craig lovingly whispered. “Whatever you need, let me know.”

Tweek nodded as he took a couple of deep breaths. “Right, right…it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m safe. They can’t hurt me anymore.”

“That’s right, baby.”

After another deep breath, Tweek faced them once more and walked towards them with his head held high. However, as soon as Richard switched his gaze onto Tweek, he froze. He squeaked and partially hid behind Craig like the Sun hiding behind the Moon while it transits.

“Tweek.” As soon as Richard uttered his name, Helen’s head snapped towards their direction. Craig heard Tweek’s breathing hitch and felt his hand squeezed so tightly that he felt like the circulation was cutting off.

Richard and Helen stood up in their place. Helen opened her arms, an invitation for Tweek to hug her before the officer promptly told her that no contact was allowed. The voice startled Tweek, who flinched and tensed in his spot. His footsteps stuttered as Craig guided him to the table. Once Tweek sat, the rest followed.

“Wow, Tweek, you look so…different,” Helen said with a small smile. Tweek didn’t answer or spare a glance. He looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers while biting his bottom lip. “Still puny, but better.”

Craig clenched his fist beneath the table and deeply inhaled. The scene was similar to the last conversation the three of them had together when they passive-aggressively told Tweek he was nothing without them. They had made Tweek feel small back then, too. Craig despised the influence they had over him; a simple word from their mouths could make Tweek fall apart.

Noting Tweek wasn’t going to respond, Helen’s attention turned to Craig. “You look as handsome as always, Craig. I see you’re still boxing.”

“Yes, Tweek and I exercise together now that he has more time on his hands,” Craig said sarcastically. He tried to remain cordial, but every word came out with a bite. “You wouldn’t believe the things he’s able to do. Then again, you never believed he could do anything at all.”

Helen’s jaw dropped, appalled at the way Craig spoke to her. He had always attempted to stay respectful, though there was no reason to pretend he had an ounce of respect anymore. Be that as it may, he held back all he wanted to say for Tweek’s sake. If Craig acted too rashly, he might worsen his anxiety, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

The visit had started merely minutes ago, and it seemed Tweek had already shut down entirely. Fortunately, they predicted that reaction was a possibility. Thus, they rehearsed multiple visceral scenarios with different reactions from Tweek and planned accordingly. He had even written a note with everything he wanted to say.

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Craig. I’m hurt that you’d think that way,” Helen replied. If Craig didn’t know any better, he would believe she was genuinely offended. She was a great actress; for a while, Craig truly believed she cared for Tweek. “I always cared for Tweek. I knew he had his… limitations, and all I did was try to make things easier for him. Sure, I’ve made my mistakes, but I tried my best. Isn’t that enough?”

Before Craig could respond, Richard interjected. “Some things never change, huh, Tweekers?” He quipped with a faint smirk.

Craig turned to look at Tweek. What he saw was beyond upsetting.

Tweek was twitching. His neck snapped roughly in a way it hadn’t in months. With trembling hands, Tweek’s left hand tugged on his hair. For a moment, Craig was back there, sitting at the coffee shop. He remembered how they belittled and insulted Tweek for things he lacked control over. For the things they themselves caused. Last time, Craig tried to manage the situation discreetly, but it only got worse from there. He couldn’t let it happen again.

“Don’t call him that,” Craig scowled. “His name is Tweek. And no, he isn’t puny; he isn’t ‘limited’ either. He’s perfect. If you continue talking about him this way, we can just leave right now.”

Richard chuckled. “So you’re still his guard dog, then?”

It took everything in Craig to not stand up and knock him out solid right then and there. There was a familiar anger rising in him, one he hadn’t felt in a while. Richard’s cocky grin made it worse; he wanted to punch it away and make him hurt in ways that couldn’t even parallel the condition Tweek had been in at the hospital.

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but before any word came out of her mouth, a loud shrill interrupted her. The noise came from Tweek’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood. Finally, the unfazed look Helen sported dismantled as she followed his movement by standing up.

“Tweek?” Helen stammered nervously. Tears welled up in her eyes; she appeared to be scared, maybe anxious.

Tweek slowly pulled a note from his back pocket. He gazed at it for a while before he exhaled dejectedly. Then, he briefly looked at Richard before his eyes finally settled on Helen.

With quaking hands, he handed her the note just as a lonely tear escaped from his eyes. “It was good to see you, Mom.”

And with that, he spun around and left.

Craig thought he handled that situation way better than he would have if the positions reversed. He was so immensely proud of him, albeit worried that perhaps Tweek was bottling his emotions for an unknown reason. Or possibly the events hadn’t fully settled in yet, and the breakdown would come later.

“I must’ve practiced the speech 500 times on the way there, but when I saw them, all the words I had prepared just…vanished,” Tweek explained. He stared down at his half-eaten meal with a look Craig couldn’t quite comprehend. Acceptance. Or surrender. Maybe both. “After a while, I realized that I had nothing to say to them.”

Craig didn’t respond. He solely opened his arms and engulfed Tweek in a tight hug. “You did good, Tweek.”

Soft music along with Tweek’s hums filled the empty spaces of his room as Craig ran a small brush across the canvas he had been painting on. Ever so often, he could hear the clanking sound of Tweek’s brush hitting the glass, painting the water within it a different color each time. Whenever a new pigment was added, Craig watched intently. The way it looked as it spread made him think of the pillars of creations and their beauty.

Once the coloured water turned dull, Craig’s eyes observed Tweek instead. His pink tongue poked out of his tongue and his eyes squinted at his canvas, focused and determined to get every detail right. Ever so often, his nose would twitch and he’d scrunch like a bunny; it was the cutest thing Craig had ever seen.

“Mmm, are you almost done?” Tweek asked. He glimpsed at Craig and blushed madly when he realized he had been staring at him.

Craig broke out of his trance and returned his attention to his canvas. His work made him cackle loudly. He was never the artistic type of guy. Though the activity was quite relaxing, Craig’s skill was poor. He had painted a house atop a hill, but it was reminiscent of a first grader’s painting. At his reaction, Tweek bit back a smile.

“Let me see,” he giggled. Craig promptly turned around and Tweek laughed loudly before he caught himself and slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s really not that bad. It just needs some detail and shading.”

“Sure, and I’m also Bob Ross.”

Tweek rolled his eyes at his sarcasm, and reached out to grasp his canvas. “Let me see.”

Before his fingers touched the wood, his elbow knocked over the glass of water Craig had been amazed by earlier, spilling all of its contents on Tweek’s shirt. Consequently, he shrieked and grabbed the cup before it emptied completely. Tweek paused, shocked.

“It’s okay, honey. Go to the bathroom while I clean up over here. I’ll bring you a shirt in a second.”

Tweek nodded quickly before he ran off into the bathroom quickly. Craig took off his grey t-shirt and placed it over the desk to absorb the spilled liquid while he opened Tweek’s drawer to bring a replacement shirt to Tweek.

“So this is where all my shirts have gone,” Craig laughed as he took a blue NASA shirt. “You little imp. I knew I couldn’t—”

Craig cut himself off and gulped thickly as he was met with the sight of Tweek rinsing himself off with a washcloth. Small droplets made their way down; Craig followed their trail, where they all ultimately ended under Tweek’s pants. He licked his lips wantonly and gripped the shirt in his hand tightly. Tweek was so damn attractive. How was it possible?

“Is this one okay?” He stuttered, but his query went unanswered.

Craig noticed the way Tweek looked at himself in the mirror– like he didn’t recognize himself. He could tell Tweek felt strange in his ever-changing body. He’d often wrap his arms around his torso in an attempt to hide himself from Craig’s eyes. The supplements and diet change had an effect on his physical health. It was akin to a place you visited as a child, one you can hardly remember, familiar yet foreign. It was hard for Tweek to navigate through his newfound control. He wasn’t twitching or screaming, but his hands had a familiar tremble, hints of his past remained no matter how much he wished to bury it away.

“What are you thinking of, beautiful?”

Tweek snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. “Nothing much, it’s just…” he trailed off. “Do you think I’m puny?”

They had only seen Richard and Helen momentarily, but they had still managed to slip inside Tweek’s head.

“You’re not puny,” Craig affirmed. He snuck in behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You are a twink though.”

Tweek chortled before he grabbed the blue shirt and threw it at him. “Shut up.” There was a pregnant pause between them. Tweek’s eyes landed back on the mirror with a pout.

“I’m serious about what I said earlier, Tweek.” Craig walked behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist again. “You’re perfect, Tweek. You’re not too small or too big. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“You still think that after all these changes?”

“I’ll never stop knowing that. There’s absolutely no universe where I don’t find you to be the most beautiful person in the world— it’s not possible,” Craig whispered in his ear, his voice deep and sultry. It sent goosebumps down Tweek’s spine. “Look at yourself, honey. You’re more alive than ever.”

Tweek sucked in a deep breath as he felt Craig’s warm hand slowly travel up his chest. Then, Craig pulled him backward, pressing his muscled chest against his back, resulting in a soft gasp from Tweek. His body obediently followed along the path of Craig’s touch. He leaned towards the touch with silent lust, hoping the touch would extend all throughout his being.

There was an indistinct glint in Craig’s eyes as he looked at him through the mirror, one that sent Tweek’s body ablaze. “Your complexion is brighter, your hair is softer, your body is more defined and your hips,” Craig grunted as he placed both of his hands on the flesh there. “Fuck, Tweek, do you know how crazy I’ve been from these hips of yours?”

Craig pressed his hardened member against Tweek, who whimpered in return. It wasn’t the first time Craig tenderly touched him, but there was something different. It felt more real than it had before. They hadn’t done anything at all, but Tweek could already feel himself leaking from the front.

Tweek couldn’t handle it anymore. He rapidly turned around and pulled Craig down for a steamy kiss. Within seconds, Tweek’s tongue made its way to play to which Craig accepted its request. As soon as they met in the middle, Tweek’s knees buckled, but Craig caught him just in time. Next thing he knew, he was lifted off the ground and onto the bathroom cabinet.

Craig didn’t reconnect their lips— not right away. He allowed his fingertips to caress Tweek’s skin ever so slightly, feeling the goosebumps rising as he navigated through his fair, porcelain skin. He was enamored by the softness of it, unlike his own rough skin. Craig tried to forget the why; why their builds and sensories differed so much. The thoughts shoved their way in regardless.

The thought of Richard and Helen repulsed Craig, yet they made him crave Tweek that much more. He felt the urge to show him how incredibly wrong they were about him. He wanted to undo his every insecurity, like knots in his hair or lace on his pajama pants. He wanted to show Tweek how special he was— kind, resilient, beautiful.

Craig’s lips grazed lightly against Tweek’s, who was one touch away from falling apart. He looked so beautiful like that— flushed and desperate, craving more but too shy to ask. Craig wanted to tease him more until he had no choice but to beg.

Perhaps another night, Craig concluded. At that moment, he wanted to give it all to Tweek. To worship and adore him until he finally understood his worth.

Against Tweek’s wishes, Craig didn’t kiss him again. Instead, he picked him up and carried him all the way to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and laid him down gently. His bedroom was still dark from his nap earlier, the LED lights were the only source of light. Tweek looked so pretty in blue, but Craig wanted to see all of him. Thus, he switched the light to a dim warm tone.

The way he looked right then was beyond words, beyond life. Craig released a breath he didn’t know he held as he moved his hands slowly from Tweek’s hips up to his shoulders only to move back down where he paused. He snuck his thumbs under Tweek’s waistband and paused, waiting for Tweek’s permission to continue. Only after Tweek nodded did Craig begin to strip him from his pants.

He was entranced by the view of a naked Tweek beneath him. He was enveloped in a feeling so strong that he found himself finding faith once more. Tweek, with his gorgeous smile and slim body, had to be a deity of some kind. That was it. He had reached enlightenment.

“You’re ethereal,” Craig mumbled softly before their lips collided feverishly in a heated kiss.

He groaned in pleasure, squeezing and pinching Tweek’s silky sides with fervor. Craig swallowed Tweek’s every moan into his mouth. He wanted more and more as their bodies grinded against one another.

“Craig, what do I do?” Tweek asked nervously. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Shh, relax and let me worship you.”

Before Tweek could ask Craig any questions, he was interrupted by the sound of his own voice whimpering as Craig parted his legs widely and situated between them. Tweek watched as he sunk down until he could feel his breath against his groin. Then, he felt a warm, wet sensation press itself against his entrance.

Tweek threw his head back and moaned. He hadn’t expected it to feel so good. The volume of his moan caught him by surprise and he covered his face in shame, yet shame couldn’t stop his dick from spouting pre-cum on his pelvis.

Craig licked his lips as he pulled back, looking at the puckered hole twitching as if it was asking for attention. He loved the moans Tweek released; he wanted to hear more. Thus, Craig took hold of the back of his thighs and pressed them against Tweek’s chest, exposing more of that pretty pink hole of his. He didn’t hesitate; he immediately began to lap and suck at it, enjoying the sweetness of his taste and sounds.

Suddenly, Craig pulled away, causing Tweek to whine in protest. He was disheveled; his chest was flushed red as he panted. At that point, Craig decided he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He sat up and opened a drawer of his nightstand. From there, he pulled a bottle out. “Let me know if you want to stop, okay? Promise me you’ll tell me if I hurt you.”

“O-okay,” Tweek agreed breathlessly. “I promise.”

Craig popped the lid of the lube open and coated his index finger generously. “Take a deep breath for me, honey.”

As air filled Tweek’s lungs, Craig slowly pushed his digit in. He tensed up as he felt pressure slowly enter him; it was uncomfortable, but not painful. Perhaps the worst part was the humiliation aspect of it. He felt exposed and more vulnerable than ever. But it was Craig of all people; Tweek felt safe in his arms.

After a minute, Tweek relaxed under his touch. He nodded, giving Craig the clearance to begin moving. The finger slowly withdrew itself; it was a funny feeling. Then, when it pushed itself back in, Tweek had a short burst of pleasure.

“You’re doing so good, baby. You look so beautiful. I love when you moan for me.” Craig continued to push in and out. Tweek felt so nice, warm and tight, he groaned at the feeling. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Briefly thereafter, Craig added a second finger in. He paused, allowing Tweek to adjust to the stretch. When he felt him loosen up, he pulled his fingers out half way before he curled them upwards. He pressed on a soft nub and smirked when Tweek squeezed his legs shut with a squeal. The sudden intense pleasure shocked Tweek and his breath quivered.

As Tweek and Craig rediscovered their sexual journey, they ran into a few hiccups. Sometimes, when Tweek felt too much pleasure, his body had a hard time differentiating excitement from danger. He would start hyperventilating as anxiety overtook his being. However, after a few accidents, they learned how to navigate around it.

Craig noticed the warning signs and reacted quickly before it worsened. He pressed his hand down on Tweek’s chest where he could hear the incessant pounding of his heart. It was comforting to him— a sign that his lover was alive and well. He wasn’t a hallucination; he was real.

“You’re gorgeous. Breathe for me, honey. You’re doing so good. You’re perfect, absolutely breathtaking.” Craig peppered kisses all over his red face. Tweek took deep breaths until he felt his body get rid of his anxiety.

For a second, Craig completely withdrew himself. Scared he was going to stop, Tweek whined and held onto him. Though Craig had no intention of leaving. Instead, he settled behind Tweek with his chest pressed against his back and held him close. Craig raised Tweek’s outer leg before pushing his two fingers back inside. He immediately found his prostate and pressed on it again, watching how Tweek’s mouth fell open, gasping for air and his hole tightened around his finger so deliciously. He couldn’t help but groan at his reactions; knowing he could bring that much pleasure to Tweek made Craig feel painfully turned on.

He pumped his fingers in and out slowly, making sure to press down at Tweek’s prostate with every move. His moans progressively got louder. Suddenly, Tweek felt pressure continuously building up until his thighs began to shake uncontrollably.

“More…I want more…” he babbled.

“What do you want, babe?” Craig teased.

“Please, nngg, I’m ready!”

Craig shook his head. “It’d be a shame to end so early, honey, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

Tweek whimpered, leaning his head back to kiss Craig, but being unable to keep his mouth shut for too long. His eyes, half-lidded, could barely catch the way Craig smirked against his lips cruelly, enjoying the way Tweek was falling apart.

“Wait, Craig. Agh, I feel—” he whined. “I think I have to pee.”

Craig halted his movements, but not entirely. Instead, he pressed the pad of his fingers against Tweek’s prostate softly before going in slow circular motion. Yet, as much as it left Tweek’s toes curling, it wasn’t enough to push him to the edge. It felt as if he was riding intense waves of pleasure that pushed and dragged him back and forth to the shore.

Unusual milky white liquid with a thin and watery texture began spurting out of Tweek. It was unlike anything he had seen before. And it kept pouring and pouring out of him like a hose. He wasn’t aware what or how it was happening, but he wasn’t mentally coherent enough to question it, especially when his body was acting on its own terms.

Tweek’s entire being was spastic. He felt pleasure from his toes up to his scalp. He hadn’t known such pleasure was possible; he didn’t want it to end. He continued to make a mess in Craig’s dark blue sheets as every last bit of him was milked. He reached out to stroke himself, wanting to get closer to the shore the waves kept tugging him away from.

Just as he grazed his member, Craig nicely lifted his hand away. “Not yet, honey, I don’t think you want it enough.”

Craig pulled out and when he inserted the fingers again, there were three, thrusting and scissoring him open. How Craig didn’t think Tweek wanted it enough was beyond him; he was nearly screaming from how good it felt, twitching, unable to control his body. As Craig went harder and deeper, more prostatic fluid poured out from his dick.

Craig pressed his fingers against Tweek’s prostate and placed slight pressure against the nub of nerves. He whimpered in desperation while Craig just pressed his prostate like a button on a remote.

“Craig, please, please!” Tweek exclaimed, holding on tightly to the pillow beneath him, which had quickly become covered in his spit.

“What do you want, honey?”

Tweek’s quivering hand reached behind him and found Craig’s hardened cock. It was as solid as a rock, and through the fabric, he could feel the heat. It weighed heavily in his hand. Tweek couldn’t help but gulp thickly, anticipating what was to come. He squeezed the source of heat, eliciting a groan out of Craig. The sound appeased Tweek, who softened and tightened his grip again while moaning simultaneously.

Not being able to withstand any longer, Craig pulled himself away. He shifted Tweek, who whined at the empty feeling, until Tweek’s lower back rested on his tough thighs. Then, he held Tweek’s trembling thighs and held them open. Craig paused in that position for a moment, observing how effervescent Tweek was— how gorgeous he looked when he was desperate for him.

All of Craig’s passions lay there, breathless and pliant, compressed into one small human being named Tweek.

Craig’s eyes darkened while his right hand reached for the discarded lube. He popped the cap open with his mouth, not breaking contact with Tweek’s body for a single second. Then, he stroked his leaking cock, covering it with transparent lube. After a few seconds, he alighted himself with Tweek’s pulsing entrance.

Without pushing in, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against Tweek’s. He united their lips. “Look at me honey, open your eyes and look at me.”

Tweek opened his eyes and dark blue skies met with green pastures. They were about to be united in a way they never once had before.

Slowly, Craig pushed his thick and angry flesh inside the warm and tight cave. The moment the tip forced the cavern to spread, Tweek’s mouth fell open with a gasp. With their eyes connected and their lips so close, Craig felt immensely satisfied; he could cum just from the sight of Tweek falling apart beneath him.

Craig’s dick was enveloped in a warm and wet embrace unparalleled to any feeling in the world. When he bottomed out, he was certain he was the first person to feel the very center of a star; it was hot, incredibly hot, but inviting. The kind of hot that made him grunt in pleasure. He craved more. It was tight and soft; it fit like a glove. And it was beautiful, so beautiful beyond words— beyond life. Devastatingly glorious, devastatingly his.

Craig wanted more. No, he needed more.

The core was delicious against Craig’s flesh. Two parts were ignited by the other. The core of the star was meant for him, or was he meant for the core? No, they were meant for each other. Day can’t exist without a star; night can’t exist without a moon.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, look how you bloom for me. You take me in so well,” Craig cooed as he pressed his hips to Tweek’s bottom. “Look at you; all helpless under my touch.”

He paused, allowing Tweek to adjust to his size. He knew he was a bit above average and needed the time to get used to the penetration. However, the long preparation had eased Tweek because it didn’t take long before he was pulsing widely.

Hesitantly, Tweek reached out to touch Craig’s chest. He felt his heart racing beneath his pectoral muscles. Then, Tweek took in the sight of Craig’s brown nipples perked proudly on his tan skin and the chiseled abs. He was undoubtedly handsome. Once again, Tweek saw the unknown gentle side to Craig; the one only he had the pleasure to witness. It made him feel special.

Craig pulled out slowly, painfully slowly, and shoved in roughly. The guttural moan of Tweek made his cock pulse within, Tweek’s voice had gone raspy from how much he had used it within the hour. He continued to thrust with that rhythm.

“That’s it, baby, take me in like a good boy.”

Tweek’s limbs all shot upwards, wrapping his arms tightly around Craig’s shoulders, pulling him down while his legs hugged his waist. Tweek hid his face in the space between Craig’s neck and shoulder as he moaned. They hugged wordlessly, their chests flushed together while they breathed heavily.

Craig began to press kisses all throughout his face before he began suckling on Tweek’s neck, leaving love marks all over like stars in the sky. He brushed his fingers through the blond’s hair, appreciating the proximity between them. All while he pumped inside Tweek nice and slow.

“I love you,” he whispered. He reached out for Tweek’s left hand, where he could feel the ring that proved his words true, and interlaced their fingers. “I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too, Craig. I love you. I love you with all my being.”

They kissed languidly as Craig slowly began to pick up his pace. The increase in speed submerged Tweek in waves of delight once more. As a consequence, their kiss became wet and sloppy. Their tongues swirled against one another as they swallowed each other’s sounds of pleasure. It was too good— Craig could see him railing Tweek every hour of every day for the rest of his life. It wasn’t even over, but he could already picture every place and position he wanted to do Tweek in. He wanted to push his body to the limit, to see how far he could go before he dismantled within his arms only for Craig to put him back together again.

“I feel so full,” Tweek cried. He gripped Craig tightly, digging his nails into his shoulders as he was stretched beyond imaginable.

Craig kissed away his tears before he cheekily grinned. “You’ll feel fuller once I fill you up with my seed.”

He gave Tweek a final peck before he sat up. As tender as Craig was, he wasn’t a man known for his patience. He began to thrust in and out at an incredible speed that even the bed released sounds of pain. Tweek’s legs spread wider, allowing Craig to sink deeper into his warmth. The feeling made Tweek’s eyes roll back, and the added pressure of Craig’s cock brushing past his prostate over and over again made him sob.

Alongside Tweek’s shrills and Craig’s groans, there was a lewd squelching sound coming from where they were connected. He couldn’t stop himself from glimpsing down. The view was enchanting; Tweek’s hole snuggly wrapping itself around Craig’s scalding cock, sucking him in whenever he pulled out— it was far too much.

There was a gargantuan urge in Craig’s lower abdomen; he knew he was seconds away from release. He didn’t want to finish alone, though, he wanted to reach euphoria with Tweek.

Craig grabbed Tweek’s legs and put his legs on his arms; his knees fell on his inner elbows. “Touch yourself for me, baby. Touch yourself as you cum on my cock.”

Tweek, with his face flushed red, reached towards his neglected, leaking cock, which still emptied viscous fluids on his lower abdomen from Craig’s abuse to his prostate. He didn’t know if anything would come out. Still, he wrapped his hand around his member, hissing at the contact before he stroked at the pace of Craig’s thrusts.

It only took a few strokes for Tweek to cum undone. It was a stellar outburst. He moaned louder than ever before. His entire body shook intensely and his hole tightened around Craig’s member. He shot his load at surprising speeds, staining his chest and neck alike, some even managed to find their way to his blonde hair. And he was fucked through it. Craig’s thrusts lost rhythm; his orgasm was imminent. The view of Tweek absolutely destroyed, twitching and crying, was the last stimulus Craig needed to ejaculate.

He shot ropes of cum inside Tweek, moaning in a low tone as he pulsed. It was, without a doubt, the best— and lengthiest— orgasm of his life. It took Craig a few minutes to recover. He remained inside Tweek until his cock went limp. When he pulled out, his own cum dribbled out. If his member wasn’t entirely spent, he would’ve sheath himself back in.

Coming down from such a high was bound to create anxiety for Tweek. Thus, Craig grabbed tissues from the drawer and tried to wipe as much of the mess off Tweek before the overstimulation kicked in. There was no possible way to clean it all; a bath would be ideal. But first, he had to tend to Tweek before the crash overwhelmed him.

He lay beside him and pulled him close. There was still a puddle of Tweek’s mess staining the sheets, which Craig attempted to pull him away from. Then, he spread kisses all throughout his face, repeating loving mantras while smiling widely. When Tweek giggled, he knew it was effective.

He sighed in bliss as he snuggled himself into Craig’s chest. They remained there, enjoying each other’s scent and existence in silence. Craig ran his fingers up and down Tweek’s spine, loving the way he shivered when he reached his neck.

“What are you thinking of?” Craig asked, disturbing the quiet state of the room.

“I was counting your heart’s beats per minute, and thinking of songs that match it,” he answered in a soft tone.

Craig chuckled. Not because it was inherently funny, but because it was such a Tweek thing to do. It made him oddly emotional. “Yeah? Which ones?”

“Well, when it was at 68 beats per minute, I thought of songs like ‘I Will Always Love You’ and ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,’ but your heart sped up, and I need to count again. Hold on.”

Craig involuntarily snorted when he laughed, which caused Tweek to cackle along. At that moment, all Craig could think of was how much he loved and missed him. He waited a lifetime for Tweek, and he would do it again if it meant he got to hear the sound of his beautiful laughter. It had become a rare commodity, but as time passed, it became more common.

“It’s beating really fast,” Tweek said after a while, when their fits of laughter finally wore out. “Why?”

“Probably because I’m thinking of you,” Craig said with a strained voice, catching Tweek and himself by surprise. He hadn’t expected to sound so emotional.

He couldn’t help it. Craig felt elated that he got a second chance to be with Tweek. They were there together and if they were together, they could overcome whatever wrong they encountered. Nearly a year ago, Craig thought he had lost the opportunity to bask under the sun. He thought he’d never be able to look out into the cosmos and feel happy because stars were tainted with the memory of Tweek. It was long ago but it felt like just yesterday that Craig saw Tweek’s body become a hollow shell, and he blamed himself for the ruins of their relationship.

Indeed it was a lifetime ago. Day by day, they take another step forward, leaving their past behind alongside the many routines Craig once feared abandoning. It was almost funny. At the beginning of the school year, Craig was desperate to cling onto the monotony that was his life. He didn’t want Tweek to change who he was; he didn’t want to move on from his predictability.

It was different now.

Craig embraced every change Tweek presented, celebrating every moment of his evergreen journey. He was excited to start anew wherever as long as he got to keep Tweek by his side. One day, they’ll fall into another predictable routine full of monotony— Craig was excited for that too. But he won’t force things to remain stagnant anymore. He’ll adapt the same way Tweek had adapted to his new life.

Lying there with Tweek, naked and vulnerable, made Craig emotional, but he was unbelievably happy.

Tweek furrowed his brow and lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

Craig shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said with a loving look in his eyes. He caressed Tweek’s face gently and smiled. “Everything’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

The aroma of cupcakes and tea painted the air in a beautiful array of bliss. It eased Craig’s unusually cold body, which yearned for the warm torso that usually snuggled against him. Through the minute slit of the curtains, Craig could see how the glimmering sun rays interacted with the dust particles, scattering them like gold glitter in the otherwise dark and lonely room.

Following a stint of idle staring, Craig’s stomach growled from the endless teasing of the sweet scents. Deciding to listen to his intuition, Craig stretched his limbs and dragged himself out of the bed. The tile was cold under the soles of his feet, a sensation he felt every day, yet he winced every time it touched him. Similarly, he woke up at 8 am every morning and somehow continued to wake in a tired daze.

Craig made his way towards the kitchen, but not before washing up in the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he paused by Tweek’s cork bulletin board and searched for the date. Amongst the many reminders of assignments, chores, and medications, he found the list of their upcoming events. That’s when Craig realized he had forgotten that his family was coming to visit. Perhaps that would explain why Tweek had hurried out of bed.

The charming smell grew potent with every step Craig took towards the kitchen, finally exploding the moment he walked in. There, he saw the love of his life with a pink apron tied around his slim waist as he mixed what Craig assumed was cake batter. He waited by the cased opening, observing, unashamedly checking out his fiance’s lithe body. His small waist, plump butt, and godforsaken prominent hips were littered with hidden bruises from previous nightly activities. A brief flashback of Tweek’s gorgeous face as he rode him appeared in Craig’s mind, twisting his face into an even wider smile.

A few beats later, Tweek spun around and screamed in shock when he saw Craig. He instinctively threw a silicone spatula in Craig’s direction, who fortunately dodged the kitchen utensil at the last minute. At once, Tweek removed the earbuds he wore with a relieved exhale.

“Craig! You scared me!” He exclaimed. He placed a hand over his racing heart and took a couple of sharp breaths.

Craig had also been startled by the sudden weapon launched towards him, but he had recovered from the shock much quicker. “And you nearly gave me a concussion.”

“Because you’re a pervert!”

The response made Craig snort. “I’m sorry, honey.” He approached Tweek and engulfed him in a loving hug. “I just can’t help it when you’re so hot.”

Tweek bashedly blushed and smacked his shoulder before collapsing in the embrace. He inhaled Craig’s cologne deeply, and with his sigh, his body lazily slumped. The anxiety poured out of his body and scattered like the dust in their room. After a minute of silence, Tweek pulled away enough to stare into Craig’s Neptune-like eyes.

“Morning, Craig,” he whispered. With the sound of Tweek’s voice, the Sun rose, illuminating Craig’s world with vibrant colors. At last, his morning had begun.

Craig smiled and nuzzled their noses together before he captured Tweek’s lips with his own. A small peck wasn’t enough to soothe Craig’s appetite. Thus, he deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue into Tweek’s crevice to satiate his cravings. He promptly swept him off his feet, eliciting a high-pitch squeal from Tweek as Craig set him on the island,

“Craig!” He yelped.

“Mm, scream it louder,” Craig mumbled as he began to press kisses against the love marks throughout his neck.

Tweek bit back a moan and placed his hands on Craig’s chest to push him away. “Wait, wait.” Concerned, Craig instantly stopped his movements. It wasn’t often that Tweek refused his advances. “No, it’s just, nngg, I wanna show you something.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Look in that drawer!”

Craig followed the direction Tweek pointed, puzzled, but he obeyed the instructions regardless. He pulled on the drawer’s handle and peeked inside. What he found was a small token with a road surrounded by beautiful scenery engraved on it. He ran his thumb over the design, feeling the cool metal before he read the words inscribed.

‘Two years sober’

“Tweek, honey.”

Craig hurried back to Tweek and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Overwhelmed with pride and joy, he squeezed him tightly. The strength of his hug elicited a squeak from Tweek, who repeatedly smacked his shoulder until he was ultimately released.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Tweek was giddy. He bounced in place as he gleamed. “Read the back.”

Craig flipped the token and read out in a soft tone, “‘Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.’’”

Craig’s soft gaze returned to Tweek, where it lingered as he sought the sickly features that once worried him. He was pleased to find that they had dissolved into nothing but a dark memory of their past. In the two years since Tweek’s overdose, Craig hadn’t seen them again.

Thoughts of their journey paved the way for appreciation of how far they’d come. Tweek’s skin, albeit never entirely recovered, was smoother, unblemished from the harm he used to inflict on himself. He was fuller and properly groomed, and his once sunken cheeks had risen and returned to Tweek’s youthful glow. And when Craig grasped his hand, he pondered over the last occasion he helped patch them with band-aids.

All the effort had paid off. Even presently, as Craig lovingly peered at Tweek’s lively eyes, the overwhelming paranoia that once seeped through his pores had vanished.

When did the nights grow so quiet?

When did the spasms diminish?

Had they really been living in Massachusetts for nearly two years?

“You’re staring…”

“You’re beautiful,” Craig blurted. He ran his palm across the blushing cheek and took in the details with newfound appreciation. A face his hand had caressed since childhood was brighter than ever before.

The cheeks he freed from trails of tears, the eyes that dilated from the rush of dopamine, the beautiful lips that bled and cracked were all there, yet at the same time, not at all. Tweek had escaped from his parents, from the coffee shop. He was alive and free, achieving what Richard and Helen had told him was fruitless and impossible. Not only had Tweek survived the impossible, but he had dared to pursue his dreams.

Craig was astonished. Despite the stubborn remnants of his overdose– the arrhythmias, trauma, memory loss– Tweek was free of his demons.

Two muscled arms wrapped themselves around Tweek’s waist, during which Craig noted that Tweek had buttoned up his shirt that morning by himself. Buttons often struggled with due to his trembling hands. Buttons Craig was undoing one by one.

Tweek attempted to swat his hands away. “Craig, I have cupcakes in the oven that I need to take out in— agh!”

In one swift movement, Craig had bent Tweek over the island counter, successfully interrupting his sentence. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they won’t burn. Don’t they teach you how to multitask over there at MassArt?”

After Craig slipped Tweek’s light-blue shirt off his shoulders, he moved quickly towards his jeans and slipped them down to his ankles. The cold air forced a hiss out of Tweek, who squirmed under Craig’s naughty hands. Following the intrusion of two fingers inside his warm cavern, he moaned.

“Look at that. You’re even loose and ready for me.”

At that point, Tweek had stopped protesting and pushed his butt against Craig’s clothed cock. “Hurry,” he whimpered.

Craig wasted no time undoing his pants and coating his member with his spit. Given that they had sex merely hours ago, he confidently pushed in all the way. Despite the lack of proper lube, it was a smooth entrance. His cock slid in painfully slowly; Tweek could feel every inch brush past his prostate, sending ultraviolet rays of pleasure from his spine to his scalp.

When Craig bottomed out, he threw his head back with a groan in sync with Tweek’s broken moan. They stayed in place, catching their breaths and adjusting to the sensations caused by the other’s body. It was a position they often found themselves in. Even so, it was like the cold tile and the early mornings, something Craig experienced that he couldn’t quite get accustomed to.

“Ready?” Craig asked.

Tweek nodded in response, but when Craig refused to move, he knew he wanted verbal consent. “Yes, please, I need you.”

Craig placed a gentle kiss on Tweek’s shoulder before he tightly gripped his hips and pistoned at a stellar rate, filling the kitchen with the sound of skin slapping and squelching simultaneously to their harmony of intense gratification.

“Fuck, you look so good like this. You take me in so well.” Craig growled.

He stroked the sides of Tweek’s torso and landed on his cheeks, grabbing handfuls before spreading them apart. Craig watched as his cock was squeezed by the pulsing, supple entrance, which coated it in the residue of the lube from the night prior. With every exit, it tightened and sucked him back into the core of his bright Sun, where its gravity was strongest.

The softness of Tweek’s warm skin, the desperate wails he released, and the way he submitted under his touch made Craig’s entire being sparkle alive with lust. He knew Tweek was also driven mad from the way he arched his back, displaying his lower back dimples with his action. His eyes squeezed shut as his chest rose up and down from his heavy breathing. With every thrust from Craig, he enthusiastically shoved his ass backward to meet him halfway. However, as time went on, Tweek grew too weak to continue pushing against him. Instead, he unintelligibly babbled for more until he was reduced to nothing but euphoric weeping.

Pre-cum dribbled down to the floor from Tweek’s abandoned cock, but neither could care about the mess. They were too preoccupied by the delectable sensations of their bodies connecting.

“C-Craig,” Tweek whined. He was unable to finish his sentence, but Craig knew what he attempted to say.

He was tittering over the edge. Craig could tell by the way his thighs quivered, and his angelic weepings increased in pitch. Tweek shimmered the brightest like that, quaking and stumbling over his words. Craig couldn’t resist teasing him. Thus, he grabbed Tweek’s cock and rubbed the tip. When he felt his member throb in his palm as he neared his orgasm, Craig rejected it by covering the opening with his thumb. Tweek thrashed beneath him in protest. He attempted to remove Craig’s hand with his own, but he refused to budge.

“P-Please,” he begged, choking on his spit as he did so. “C-Craig, please let me cum.”

“Not yet. Be a good boy and hold it for me.”

Craig smirked as he continued to massage the glans while watching Tweek shudder and sob from the edging. If that wasn’t mean enough, Craig slowed his plowing and pressed his cock against the weak spot sitting among the pliant walls of his hole. The pressure made Tweek’s internal atoms vibrate as the tender gland was slowly and deliciously abused. It left him gasping for oxygen to soothe his burning lungs.

“You’re so good to me, baby. You’re so beautiful, my starshine, my light, my everything.”

“P-Please,” he sputtered.

“Breathe for me.”

As soon as he heard those words, Tweek took a deep breath. Then, Craig leaned forward, pressing his chest against Tweek’s back before promptly wrapping a hand around his throat to pull him high enough for their lips to crash into a wet and sloppy kiss. Soon after, Craig resumed to fuck him into the counter with shallow and quick thrusts while they feverishly kissed. In his lips, Craig could taste salty tears; he gladly slurped them into his mouth along with Tweek’s cries.

With one last thrust, Craig finally lifted his thumb, allowing Tweek to release his load precisely as he reached his peak as well. The force in which Tweek came was powerful; Craig could hear his cum hit the wooden cabinets with a splat. At the same time, his cock pulsed inside Tweek’s twitching hole as spurts of cum stained the satin insides with white. Through their orgasms, Craig continued thrusting lazily.

“You did so good, honey,” he whispered in Tweek’s ear. He pressed kisses on his shoulders and neck, enjoying the soft noises Tweek made.

They remained that way for a short interval, during which they hugged and kissed each other breathlessly until Craig’s cock softened inside of him. Subsequently, he slowly withdrew himself. Just as he entirely slipped out, the oven’s alarm went off.

With one last kiss, Craig straightened up and helped Tweek get dressed. “Now, you’ll get to feel me dripping out of you while you talk to my parents.”

It took a few minutes for Tweek to capture what Craig said. His eyes opened wide, and he stood up straight, ignoring the ache in his lower back.

“Ack! Craig!!”

It was a few hours into the afternoon when Thomas, Laura, and Tricia arrived at their apartment. Admittedly, Craig missed them. It had only been a few months since he saw them last; it was for his birthday. Back then, he thought he wouldn’t get the chance to see them since he was leaving for Peru with Tweek. But a week before their flight, they made a surprise appearance at his doorstep. If it weren’t for Tweek and Tricia comically crying into each other’s arms, Craig would’ve probably cried, too.

“Oh, Tweek, you shouldn’t have!” Laura grinned as she saw the dessert table.

An assortment of baked goods splayed across their small coffee table in front of the TV– they submerged the room with their precious aroma. Luckily, Craig’s stomach had its share of delicious treats and was no longer tempted by the smell. The same was not said for Tricia, who raced past Laura to snatch a red velvet cupcake from the stand.

“Yes, he should have!” Tricia shouted with glee. She tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she took a bite of the dessert. Then, she squealed in delight. “I’ve missed this so much.”

In just two years, Tricia had grown exponentially. Her childish features matured over time; there was always something different whenever Craig saw her. Day by day, she looked more like Laura. Yet, she still carried the chaotic energy she always had.

“Thanks, Trish,” Tweek sheepishly replied. “Eat as many as you want.”

“Thanks, Tweety Birdie!” Tricia stuck her tongue out at Craig, who glared at her gluttonous manner in playful disgust.

Laura shuffled into the living room with Tricia and Tweek, who named every delicacy he had to offer. In the meantime, Craig stood by the entrance, holding the door open for the remaining guest.

Thomas was the last to walk through the door with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. He appeared to be embarrassed as he approached Craig.

“Hey, Dad,” Craig stiffly greeted. Despite their blossoming relationship, displaying affection towards each other was still slightly uncomfortable.

“Your mother told me you got a job,” Thomas said with a tight smile.

“Uh, yeah. It’s nothing serious, Dad,” he answered. “Just one of my professors hooked me up with a part-time lab tech job at a local engineering sciences center. I’ll probably just be cleaning machines and reading data.”

Thomas silently nodded. Then, he awkwardly offered the bouquet to Craig. “I’m proud of you, Son.”

Hesitantly, Craig grasped the bouquet, flustered by the unexpected gesture. They shared no further verbal exchanges. Thomas clasped his shoulders before he cleared his throat and joined Laura and Tricia, who happily chatted with Tweek on the couch.

Craig stood in place for a brief spell, nervously gripping the thick, fuzzy stems in his sweaty hands. Once the initial shock wore off, Craig lifted the flowers to his face with a faint smile. He allowed his nose to linger atop the yellow petals while his heart palpitated harshly in his chest. Not once in his lifetime did he imagine receiving a bouquet so openly from Thomas. It almost felt like a joke. There were simmering bursts of disgust in his abdomen. However, those thoughts and feelings dispersed just as quickly as they came.

Craig was a different person now. He knew it was okay to appreciate and enjoy things typically associated with femininity. It didn’t make him any less of a man. If anything, the flora he held was evidence of his growth and maturity into masculinity.

After a few seconds, Craig pulled away from the flowers. He walked towards the console table tucked in the room and set the flowers next to his Lunar Lander LEGO set. Then, he proceeded to reunite with everyone in the living room. He walked towards Tweek and perched on the armrest of the loveseat in which he sat.

“So, Tweek,” Laura said with a wide smile. “We got you a little something.”

Tweek stirred his matcha tea in comfortable silence. Shortly after, he registered what Laura said. “Me?”

Craig gently removed the drink from his hands and replaced it with a nicely wrapped box that was hidden behind the chair he sat on. With furrowed brows, Tweek glanced at Laura and Craig.

“But this is about Craig getting a job. Nngg, why me?”

“Just open it, Darling!” Laura beamed.

Tweek turned to Craig, who gave him a nod of approval. With trembling hands, he unwrapped the packaging, revealing the purple box underneath. He spared one last look at Tricia, who waved at him to continue. Slowly, he lifted the lid and unveiled the gift.

Within the box, there was a photo book with a picture of Tweek at the center. It was taken a little under two years ago at his belated birthday party, during the few minutes he spent skating on the rink by himself. The lighting was dark except for the spotlight that shone on him that, at the time, he hadn’t noticed. Though his back was facing the camera, the angle revealed a portion of his face, which had a minute smile.

Below the picture, in gold writing, it read: ‘Two years sober, twenty years a Tucker.’

“I didn’t think anybody remembered,” Tweek said with a hushed gasp. His eyes welled up with tears against his wishes; he did his best to blink them away to no avail.

Craig rubbed his shoulders soothingly as Tweek flipped the book open. The first images were yearbook pictures of Tweek, Tricia, and Craig as kindergarteners from their respective years. Tweek chuckled and lingered on the page, pensive and silent. His eyes hid a glint of mourning melancholy, but nobody commented on it. They allowed him the space to process the sight.

Tweek ran his thumb over the plastic of the page, perhaps attempting to soothe his younger self, even though it was merely a photograph. A few minutes later, he flipped the page. There, he saw a collage of himself alongside Craig. In some, they celebrated school events, while others were candid snapshots Thomas and Laura took while they were distracted.

Initially, Tweek frowned. He couldn’t help but see beyond the silly smiles and funny faces. He knew what was happening behind the scenes— why he had widely dilated eyes and an unbuttoned shirt. He knew the truth. It was devastating. Although he was freed, the young Tweek he saw remained frozen in time with nowhere to go. If only he could reach inside the photo book and rescue that little blond boy from his parents’ demented grasp. Alas, it was impossible, and he had to move on.

With every passing image, Tweek could only see a reflection of his past and everything he lost.

Those moments contained laughter and tears that were lost in time. Every smile hid a plethora of stories that would forever remain untold. Tweek squinted at the photos, trying to recollect those hazy anecdotes that were taken from him, but the fractured memories gained would never be enough to satisfy him. Yet, if Tweek sufficiently focused, he could almost see the frozen frames move as if to absorb him back into who he once was to regain the essence of those naive days that surrounded him. That, too, was impossible.

And though his heart hurt, he smiled from nostalgia. Those photos were stagnant pieces of history. They’d remain unchanging, untainted by the future. In them, the younger Tweek smiled because he didn’t overdose or visit his parents in prison. Thanks to the simple press of a button, the silent shutter of the camera, and the memory of paper, the innocent moment between friends and family became a relic. Thus, Tweek made an effort to stop his present from polluting his past.

“I almost forgot about your braces,” he chortled as he pointed at a frame in which Tricia curled the corner of Craig’s lips into a smile. “You only wore them for, like, half a year.”

“Ugh, the worst half-year of my life.”

As he flipped through the pages, they laughed and shared their recollections of the past. Tweek saw himself age alongside them— on family vacations, birthdays, holidays— smiling, laughing, and dancing in ways he hadn’t with Richard and Helen. Yet, there, next to Thomas, Laura, Tricia, and Craig, Tweek belonged.

The further he went down the timeline, the less he remembered. However, just because Tweek didn’t recall those memories doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. Even when he could hardly keep himself together— when he wanted to die and he thought the whole world was laughing at him— those moments were there.

Shortly thereafter, he saw himself in a coma. Like many of the photos there, he had previously never seen it. His heart broke, and he grieved as if that wasn’t himself he was looking at. Well, in a way, it wasn’t. The Tweek there was the boy Richard and Helen had crafted for their selfish benefit, not the Tweek he was destined to be.

The upcoming pages were dedicated to his recovery— sitting with Craig at the hospital, attending physical therapy with Thomas, relearning basic tasks with Laura, playing the piano with Tricia…

At that point, Tweek truly understood the intention behind the gift. It wasn’t solely to return the pieces of his childhood he had misplaced somewhere in South Park but to guide him through his endeavor.

Picture after picture, instance after instance, Tweek saw himself heal. It was hard for him to recognize the journey when he forgot where he started. It was undeniable; he— no, they had come a long way. Together.

The following pages were empty— those spots were reserved for their future. It meant more memories, more moments, and more illustrations were to come. Then, on the very last page, there were signatures from Thomas, Laura, Tricia, and Craig. There was one space left open.

“Every Tucker must sign.”

When Tweek looked up, he saw Tricia handing him a blue pen. It took him a minute, but he reached out to grab it. For a brief second, he hesitated. He hovered the pen above the page, contemplating. Ultimately, he signed his name.

Later that day, after they dined and celebrated, the family settled on the couch with their eyes on Tweek, who sat in front of the piano they had bought for him while he was comatose. He closed his eyes as he thought of what song to play.

Meanwhile, Craig stared at him with an evident smile. He momentarily turned to Thomas, Laura, and Tricia, who had expectant expressions on their faces as they looked at Tweek. Then, Craig’s eyes caught a glimpse of the opened photo book on the table— where Tweek had left it after he signed— and he scanned through the signatures.

Thomas Tucker
Laura Tucker
Tricia Tucker (was here)
Craig Tucker

Lastly,

Tweek Tucker <3

Craig felt his heart soften and butterflies flying berserk in his body. He had the urge to run to the nearest courthouse to marry Tweek so that he could see that name written over and over again. He never wanted to see the last name Tweak ever again in his life. Screw waiting for graduation— he wanted to marry him as soon as possible.

Tweek’s deep inhale brought Craig from his fantasy. His eyesight was promptly back on him. From where Craig sat, he could see Tweek’s side profile. He had a nervous smile on his face as his fingers hovered atop the black and white keys. Craig reverently observed Tweek hold his breath for five seconds, and with his sigh, Craig blissfully fell apart.

When the first few notes played, unshed tears escaped Craig’s cold and windy eyes. In the blink of an eye, Craig teleported back to high school, sitting on the couch with his dark blue acoustic guitar.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,” Tweek had sung softly. On that occasion, Craig couldn’t focus on his strumming; his mind was too enchanted by the sound of Tweek’s soothing voice.

Tweek presently continued the song from Craig’s memory. “And the dreams that you dare to, why, oh, why can’t I?”

‘E-Minor, C-Major,’ Craig thought.

“Then G, and then, your favorite, B-Minor.” Tweek had instructed with a playful smile.

Tweek played the notes accordingly. His curls bounced as his hands danced up and down on the piano. He was no longer on Earth; he was somewhere in interstellar space, unbounded and free.

As the chorus came to an end, Tweek withdrew his hand away. Craig wanted to keep him close. Seemingly, Tweek desired the same result because he didn’t completely pull away. They didn’t utter another word; they solely remained there, sharing the same space and warmth as the other. Slowly, their faces inched closer together until Craig could feel Tweek’s shaky breath against his skin; he could practically taste the bitter coffee on his lips.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Tweek’s body vanished.

Craig stood and boisterously clapped alongside the rest of the audience when Tweek played the last few chords. The piano bench scraped against the floor tiles as Tweek pushed backward to stand and bow toward the source of the applause.

In the brightness of their home, the yellow lights reflected against Tweek’s light skin with a kiss, complimenting his lively demeanor. He was ethereal, captivating like a massive star’s gravity. His eyes were a shade of green, unlike anything Craig had seen but could describe as life. Not to mention the way his body gracefully swayed with every step; he floated like magic. It never failed to impress, amaze, and lovingly devastate him.

Within that second of utter chaos— Tricia’s cackle, Laura’s playful voice, Thomas’s silent presence, and Tweek’s beautiful whining— Craig felt the most fulfilled. It wasn’t under the same planetary decor or at their secret hideout in Stark’s Pond, but in their quaint, cozy apartment in a city miles from South Park. They weren’t alone in the bubble they enclosed themselves in, relying only on each other for solidarity. They were surrounded by love and kindness— by family.

‘Finally,’ Craig thought. ‘We’re home.’

Craig approached the piano and encapsulated Tweek’s lips in a chaste kiss. He could taste the savory, earthy flavors of the matcha tea with hints of the sweetness of the cake frosting. It was the perfect blend of Tweek’s personality. Every fiber of Craig’s being focused on him— his feel, smell, and taste. It created an overwhelming sensation of love with the strength of the Big Bang exploding in his chest. In those seconds, nothing else existed.

Ensuing the silence of the world, there came an abrupt and muted sound.

Click.
Snap.
Shutter.

Another memory was created.